


Rehabilitation: Operation Reparations

by keroseneparadise



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Lives, Akechi Goro Redemption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Murder, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hospitalization, M/M, Non-Persona Velvet Room, Not Romance, Persona 5 Spoilers, Post-Canon, Royal True Ending (Persona 5), Screenplay/Script Format, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28510434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keroseneparadise/pseuds/keroseneparadise
Summary: Akechi is alive. Akechi issurviving. Shido is paying for his last year of school to make up for everything, and protecting Akira from the legal system breathing down his neck. Akechi tries not to think about it-To think about how even in prison that bastard gets to move on. He lost everything, he's miserable. He's a better person.And Goro... What about him? Is he a better person? Worthy of love?In which Akira comes up with a plan to get Akechi out there, and Akechi goes along with it until he doesn't have to anymore.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Amamiya Ren & Yoshizawa Sumire | Yoshizawa Kasumi, Akechi Goro & Phantom Thieves of Hearts, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	1. Love's Paradox

**Author's Note:**

> Please turn on creator style for certain things to work! 
> 
> Also, this is basically an AU where Akechi survived Marukis reality through the bond between himself and Akira, and Shido pulled strings to keep Akira out of jail to repay him. He then decides to stay at Leblanc until the school year ends.

Goro Akechi didn't appreciate being so easily manipulated.  
Really, the very _concept_ of this plan felt silly, not to mention the plan itself.  


Akira Kurusu and his obsession with rehabilitation were… annoying, to say the least. Perhaps it was "sweet," in its own way, that Akira wanted to see Akechi do better so badly, but the matter became irritating when the boy himself didn't think it a worthwhile endeavour. At all.  
Goro Akechi _knew_ he was a terrible person.  
He wasn't happy about it, but it's something you are just forced to come to terms with after committing such serious crimes, even at the tender age of fifteen.  
He was okay with it. The rest of the Thieves would likely never forgive him, but Akechi didn't really _need_ them, much less their forgiveness-  
He had Akira, and since defeating Maruki, no one else felt worth his time. There were no qualms from Akechi- he was used to spending most of his time alone. For him, it was a satisfactory enough existence. 

For Akira, it was not. 

So there they were.  
After about a week of gentle nagging and friendly psychological warfare, Akira's master plan (quite professionally titled "Rehabilitation: Operation Reparations") was finally able to begin.  
The idea was for him to individually visit and make amends with all the Phantom Thieves.  
And honestly? Akechi couldn't be more pissed at himself for it for giving in, to any degree.  


Especially now that, after Akira suggested he visit Ann Takamaki first, it became glaringly obvious to the crow that other people were in on it.  
Hell, the girl didn't even seem surprised when he suggested they hang out!  


Ann posited that they make a whole day out of it, with a sleepover to top everything off. The preparedness was both immaculate and unnerving. What sort of person makes arrangements with such ease? She never seemed to like him much before, not that she was at fault for that. He wasn't exactly an Ann Fanclub, either.  


When the text arrived he was still in Leblancs' attic, Jokers intent gaze brooking against Goros impulse to decline. With utmost skepticism, he agreed, glaring daggers at his roguish adversary. Secretly, he felt more neutral than anything. Maybe there was _some_ giddiness to this break in monotony, which had thus far been an immeasurable departure from his previous normal. 

Maybe that hint of giddiness was why- when the time came- he didn't blow the girl off in toto, showing up to the tall shopping center as instructed. So suggestable. He grimaced at himself.  
Ann was standing inside, near the entrance, chewing on a strand of hair and completely absorbed by her phone.  
Akechi watched her, for a moment, before taking a deep breath that alerted her to his presence.  
Immediately, she faced him, offering a polite smile,  
ANN: Oh! Crap- hey, Akechi. Sorry, I didn't even notice anyone come in.  


The detective simply shrugged, eyes scanning the building as he grew acclimated to such sterile (yet somehow greasy) air. Ann noticed his expression, smile brightening slightly,  
ANN: Gotta love that mall-food smell, huh?  
The girl looked him up and down, curiously. He'd pinned his hair back and wore a beanie, as well as a proper jacket over his vest, just to avoid getting recognized.  
Seeming hesitant to comment, she walked to his side and gestured at a restaurant nearby,  
ANN: I was thinking, if you haven't eaten, maybe we could grab lunch first?  


Instinctively, Akechi moved to decline, but his body tattled by growling at the mere mention of food. Though he'd never admit it, the outing had been troubling him all morning, and he'd subsequently neglected to even grab his usual snack bar for breakfast.  
A nasal voice, chastising in nature, perked up from Ann's bag,  
MORGANA: Hah! We'll take that as a yes!  
The cat raised his head to gaze at Akechi.  
AKECHI: Wh… Mona?   


Ann rolled her eyes, gently pushing him back down,  
ANN: _This_ little man insisted on coming.  
ANN: _I_ think he's just in it for the food, but-  
MORGANA: Nonsense!  
(He sounded quite indignant, Akechi noted with some humour.)  
MORGANA: I'm just here to make sure nobody tries anything with lady Ann.  


Akechi quirked his head, not wholly processing the statement.  
AKECHI: Why would anyone do that?  
MORGANA: Hey!  
Morgana hissed at him defensively, Ann's shocked expression quickly superseded by a fit of laughter that ended with her leaning on Akechi for support.  
ANN: Ah,  
ANN: I should have known bringing him would cause trouble, huh?  


Ann took a deep, contented-sounding breath before trotting away. Goro, in turn, stood there for a moment, trying to parse the chest-heavy feeling her laughter induced. It was… a surprising laugh.  
Not girl-ish at all, instead heavy and brash and set in her stomach. It was a good laugh, sort of intense and consuming. Making Ann laugh, in a way that didn't _seem_ mocking, was… not a bad feeling, he guessed.  
Was this why Akira always acted like such an idiot for the sake of his friends' amusement? 

Before he could deliberate, Ann turned and called to him,  
ANN: Everything alright?  
Startled from dissociation, Akechi quickly jogged to catch up. His pace evened as they yet again began walking towards the food joint (a place called "OUTBACK ™"), and he gave an apologetic shrug for the wait,  
AKECHI: Sorry, I...  
AKECHI: Just couldn't help feeling like the third wheel, here, I suppose!  
It was a lie (not that he bothered hiding it), but before Ann could process as much Mona was sighing sympathetically,  
MORGANA: You're forgiven, Crow. I don't blame you for being jealous of our bond.  
Ann just rolled her eyes.  
ANN: Riiiiight.  
ANN: Well, he does have Akira, so I'm sure he understands.  
Arms crossed, Akechi gave her a quizzical look,  
AKECHI: And which of us is the delusional pet, in that arrangement?  
MORGANA: Delusional!?   


ANN: Ehhh...  
Ann opened her mouth to respond, then didn't, pointing excitedly at the tacky interior of the malls Big Bang Burger™ and exclaiming for him to hurry instead.  
...Well, there they were.  
She jogged ahead to get the door, holding it open for Akechi while scolding Morgana into silence.  
They slipped into a booth, the server coming to take their orders in a timely fashion. Unsure of what to get, Akechi ordered their "classic burger meal;" Ann chose a fish-based dish, on the basis of it containing fewer calories.  
Eh, he wasn't a celebrity anymore. 

As they waited for their food, Ann struck up a conversation.  
ANN: So, Akechi...  
ANN: What inspired you to reach out?  
AKECHI: Hah.  
AKECHI: Akira, obviously. I assume it's the same for you?  
She smiles sadly, and he's uncertain as to why. Pity? Guilt?  
ANN: Why is that?  
AKECHI: You seemed to have a plan for everything immediately, and expressed no surprise or even _hesitation_ in accepting at my invitation.  
AKECHI: And he did suggest that I reach out to _you_ first, specifically.   
AKECHI: Besides that, it just makes sense. He likes to feel good about himself in regards to things like this-  
AKECHI: I'm humouring the whole “rehabilitation” kick for the moment, for no reason other than he nagged me into it, but if it truly is a _plan_ \- as he said- it's only logical that his team be involved.  
Bitterness crept into his voice so naturally that he didn't even notice it until Ann gave him a sort of icy stare. Akechi looked away.  
Well, this _was_ sort of doomed from the start, but this was still quicker than he expected.  


He waited, anticipating _something_ despite being unsure of what. The girl continued regarding him, carefully, face locked into an expression of focus. It was unnerving. Did she expect some kind of apology?  
Their silent exchange was interrupted by food arriving, Ann's attention immediately redirected to eating. She didn't say a word. Hesitantly, Akechi ate one of his fries.  
The silence got on his nerves. 

AKECHI: Takamaki-san-  
ANN: Quiet! I don't want to hear it, okay?  
ANN: Even if I am just here because of Akira, it does no good if you won't even try.  
ANN: I know I had my doubts about you, but I wouldn't invite you to my house if I didn't want to.  
ANN: True, he _did_ reach out to me and ask that I hang out with you, but I've been thinking about you for a while. We all have.  
She recovered from the annoyance, smoothing her skirt with a wink in accompaniment.  
ANN: You left a pretty strong impression!  
Akechi felt his resolve soften, more confused than anything. He pressed two fingers together, focused on the texture of his gloves.  
AKECHI: You...  
AKECHI: Why?  
ANN: Why did we think of you?  
ANN: Don't be stupid. Akira wouldn't just let you be forgotten, ya know.  
ANN: And, of course, you _were_ our teammate.  
ANN: Also, I don't think it has anything to do with feeling good about himself, even if helping others makes him happy.  
ANN: The most likely explanation is he just wants to see you get out more.  
She looks abruptly embarrassed,  
ANN: Not that he's said anything about it!! Just… I think you think too much for your own good. Just chill out, okay?  
The blatant lie aside, he wasn't sure how to handle the information. So, in short, he didn't, electing to give things the benefit of the doubt and move on. Of course. 

ANN: You're a pretty high strung guy, huh?  
Deep in thought, Akechi wrinkled his nose, a reaction which yet again elicited laughter from Ann. She then (politely) ordered him to hurry up, now giving her remaining scraps to Morgana and waiting for Akechi to do the same.  
He ate quickly, sliding _most_ of his food across the table to be delivered to the cat. It was mostly to speed things up, but Morgana still seemed thankful.  
(MORGANA: The rest of you could learn a thing or two from him, y' know!)  


Then, before the staff could investigate food being shoved into her purse, Ann insisted on paying the bill and leaving, implying that Akechi simply had a debt to pay. Well, there were probably worse people to owe, he guessed.  


Akechi wasn't really fantastic at or partial _to_ shopping, which made him content just waiting outside as Ann dragged him towards a pink-themed store with all sorts of clothes and make-up.  
AKECHI: Like I said, you're likely much better at this than me.  
She shook her head, clearly unconvinced.  
ANN: Then you can just follow my lead, okay?  
And before he had the chance to protest farther, Akechi was inside and saddled with items to rate and examine. 

She was, clearly, a very stylish person, something he was willing to acknowledge that he naturally _wasn't_. Studying trends and what appealed to young women, what adults found respectable-looking without looking unapproachable. The wealth of knowledge he'd collected in the interest of perfecting his detective uniform was a source of pride, maybe, but...  
AKECHI: I admit, you seem to enjoy fashion-adjacent things more than myself.  
She looked shocked at the compliment, which annoyed him yet again. Did she really think him so villainous?  
Still, she responded in earnest.  
ANN: Oh, yeah obviously!  
Ouch?  
Ann crouched to read the label of something before carefully putting it into her basket.  
ANN: Don't get me wrong, people went bananas over your looks for a reason on TV! You're a pretty handsome guy-  
(The compliment was so matter-of-fact that Akechi had no idea if she was even trying to be flattering.)  
ANN: But then you'd show up to Leblanc dressed like a sort of twinky grandpa, just so objectively unhot. It was kind of adorable, to be honest, especially that little sweater vest that you liked so much.  
Again, she spoke clinically, as if stating objective truths and not calling him a _grandpa_ of all things. Still, the comment about his sweater vest did manage to make him blush, grunting in frustration as Morgana stifled laughter.  
He did not look like a sort of twinky _anything_. 

Ann stood up again, giving him a mischievous smile that was almost cat-like in nature.  
Incapacitated by the items in-hand, he couldn't stop her from fondly pinching his cheek,  
ANN: Sheesh, don't get grumpy. I never said it was a bad thing.  
He could only gawk, utterly flabbergasted. Was this how she showed her guard was down? It was… well, disarming, he guessed.  
ANN: Plus, you're in my care now! So let's get to work, kay?  
After briefly considering (and for some reason deciding against) telling her to just fuck off, Akechi procured a hesitant nod.  
AKECHI: ...Kay.  


Feeling a touch more determined, Goro Akechi continued to follow her about. More than usual, he felt out of his element, walking up down flowery-scented isles as Ann quietly examined things that caught her interest. Knowing about fashion on an objective level, at least to the point that his manager didn't fuss over _everything_ he wore on-set, never extended to things that girls found fun at sleepovers. It wasn't until she began ushering him towards nail polish that his curiosity truly piqued.  


It was just interesting. Pretty nails weren't something generally just bought (though Akechi was aware fakes existed). The idea of being responsible for how good they looked- instead of just buying the finished product- was inherently what allured Akechi. It made one respect people with a good sense for art and fashion alike.  
Of course, he voiced none of this to Ann, resigned to staring at an attractive shade of red as opposed to being bothersome… Obviously, because he didn't need any complaints filed to Akira.  
Still, Ann was not unperceptive.  


ANN: … Something catch your eye?  
Startled, he feigned annoyance,  
AKECHI: Eh? Not at all.  
Quiet settled between them.  
ANN: Y'know, I was thinking,  
ANN: Maybe you could pick out some nail polish and we can paint our nails tonight?  
Looking a bit mystified, Akechi couldn't help the traces of color in his voice. This was…  
AKECHI: Really?  
ANN: Yeah!  
ANN: Oh, in fact, I already have stencils we could use at home!  
AKECHI: You have stencils, but not nail polish?  
Her voice gets a little bashful, then.  
ANN: Ah, well I do have nail polish.  
ANN: But they're ultimately mine, aren't they? You should get some for yourself, specifically, that way you don't just have to choose from a list of colors _I_ like.  
Again, without realizing, he wrinkled his nose, the consideration catching him off guard. Could he really reveal his hands to her? He'd only ever tried painting his nails alone...  
Ann surveyed him.  
He took note.  
AKECHI: What is it?  
ANN: Oh, nothing, really.  
ANN: I was just thinking that you're nice to talk to, in hindsight. I feel bad for not being more open to you as a teammate.  


She ignores the shock in his expression, returning her gaze to the rows of goods.  
ANN: Hm... should I pick some out too, Morgana?  
MORGANA: Ooo! Go with the sparkly gold one!  
Slowly, as if traversing molasses, Akechi picked up and examined the red one he'd seen. He pocketed it.  


The rest of their mall-bound adventure seemed to blow by quickly, the two teens growing tired and cranky from hiking up-and-down the stairs. Akechi discovered that, when able to pick out what he pleased, shopping wasn't half-bad. Even when Ann occasionally poked fun at him for his old-fashioned, (God forbid!) comfort-focused tastes.  
Noticing her party's zombified state, the girl eventually decided that they should head back to her house for the night. One short train ride later, and Akechi arrived at their lodgings. 

The first thing he noticed was that Ann's house was far more extravagant than he'd imagined.  
He knew her family had cash, it was hard _not_ to know, but even with that knowledge, the sheer intricacy of it was surprising. It was ironically nicer than his _actual_ residence, although that's not exactly impressive; it doesn't take much to trump a half-furnished studio apartment.  
Ann ushered him along, clearly a bit embarrassed. 

The house felt, _was_ , empty. Bamboo-wooden flooring, pretty and expensive and environment-safe, sat barely scuffed, yet there was a thick layer of dust in certain corners that gave them an untravelled appearance. Like some areas just stewed, unused and uncared for. The walls were decorated impersonally, each family photo arranged in such careful sequences that it didn't take a detective to notice how staged it was. Guided through the entryway, beige walls and clean "welcome" mat a greeting, Akechi took measured breaths as he removed his shoes. Ann then led him upstairs, setting down a few shopping bags to swing open her bedroom door as dramatically as possible.  
ANN: Ta-daa!  
She laughed a little, seeming more relaxed than when they met up at the doors.  
ANN: Make yourself at home!  


Ann's room carried a very different aesthetic from the rest, grand opening clearly a play on that.  
The cold floor was mostly covered by carpet, mattress in the corner half-falling off its box spring and supported by the nightstand with a Sanrio lamp atop it. Various gaming and fashion-related items (most of which looked rather old or cheap) were stacked on the few shelves or desk.  
Scrutiny of his surroundings came naturally to the guest, but his hosts' fidgeting made him wonder if she expected conversation. Feeling curious anyways, Akechi obliged.  


AKECHI: It's more empty than I anticipated.  
AKECHI: The house itself, I mean.  
Ann sat on the edge of her bed, patting the space beside her,  
ANN: Yeah, I don't blame you.  
ANN: There used to be people watching me and stuff, but I'm old enough to take care of myself. And I didn't like having cleaning ladies.  
Not wholly sure of himself, he sat down where directed and tried to occupy as little space as possible. Her eyes flickered over to him, and she made a show of leaning back and spreading out her arms. This was ridiculous. Is this what sleepovers were really like?  
Sighing, Akechi leaned back as well.  
AKECHI: What about your family?  
ANN: Work. It probably sounds silly, but we've never really been all that close- business was always the most important thing to them, and there wasn't really any room for a little kid in that.  
ANN: The thieves are more family to me than anyone else.  
Akechi narrowed his eyes. On her ceiling was a layer of glitter, and without thinking he began tracing patterns in his mind.  
AKECHI: It doesn't.  
AKECHI: Sound silly, that is.  
AKECHI: My family… well, you know. Being “loved” has never quite been a fixture of my life.   
Elbow jabbing his side, Ann shook her head,  
ANN: Don't be stupid.  
ANN: You know Akira loves you. You're part of the team to him, still.  
She paused,  
ANN: And to me too, I think.  


It was difficult not to roll his eyes.  
AKECHI: Akira is significant to me because he's my equal- that's why I bother with him and not anyone else.  
AKECHI: Just because you find someone agreeable to be around, or even worth expending energy on, doesn't necessarily mean you love them.  
She shrugged, her smile sardonic.  
ANN: Why not?  
AKECHI: I-   
There was a meow from the doorway.  
MORGANA: Oh lady _Aaaann_!  


The lady in question sat up, leaning over to scoop Morgana up into her arms as he approached.  
ANN: Oh?  
MORGANA: You'll be very pleased to know that any and all violent aggressors in your yard have been handled.  
AKECHI: Violent… aggressors?  
ANN: He means rats. He's a very hard-working hunter.  
Then, to punctuate her point, she kissed him atop the head, Morganas' trills of joy filling the room immediately. 

Laying the cat down on her bed, she stood and stretched,  
ANN: So! Nail painting.  
Akechi nodded.  
AKECHI: Indeed.  
ANN: I'm gonna go fish out my old stuff. You boys play nice until I get back, m'kay?  
They both agreed, and Ann scurried out of the room to fetch her things. 

Still purring, Morgana moved to situate himself on Akechi's lap. The boy gasped slightly in response, never having been good with animals, but (with some hesitance) pet Mona all the same.  
AKECHI: Is that alright…?  
Instead of speaking, the cat rubbed his head against Akechis' face, purring growing louder as their cheeks pushed together.  
AKECHI: What does this- why are you-  


ANN: Aw!  
Ann cooed as she re-entered, a cardboard box now tucked beneath her arm. Morgana settled back down, curling up on Akechi's lap in clear preparation for a nap. More than anything, it was surprising- the creature had always been aloof and bossy, before, and of course insistent on his humanity. Had he become more indulgent with cat-like behavior?  
The purring pointed to yes.  
AKECHI: What's his deal?  
She rested the box on her lap, resting beside them yet again. He stared, expectant.  
ANN: There's no “deal-” that's how cats show love and affection. It's a way of putting their scent on things, in this case a trusted human or owner.  
ANN: … I looked it up.  
Akechi stared down at Morgana, dumfounded.  
Huh.  
(Maybe he should get a cat? No, that's ridiculous.) 

AKECHI: The nail polish...  
ANN: Right!  
Skirt smoothed flat, Ann placed a hand on her leg, free arm nudging Goro slightly.  
ANN: Here, why don't you do mine first, then they can dry and I'll do yours?  
He thought about it, gloved hands yanking away on reflex. Noticing this, the girl shook her head,  
ANN: Or… maybe you can just do mine? And then we can play Mario Kart?  
Akechi immediately loosened up, a small smile managing to invade his face. His hands itched to be set free, grasping and terrible things; he couldn't stand to look at them, even painted.  
But with that fear alleviated, Akechi went about unscrewing a bottle.  
AKECHI: Hmm.  
AKECHI: Alright. Sounds good to me.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, comment your thoughts! I appreciate feedback and criticism alike.


	2. The Tranquility of Solitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be absolutely sure that author skins are enabled, otherwise this chapter becomes unreadable!

It was difficult to pretend that hanging out with Ann was miserable. In fact, the excitement he was able to siphon from activities he once considered a waste of time was something Goro Akechi gave a great deal of thought in the days that followed, after packing his things and returning home in the morning.  
Obviously, his loneliness made him susceptible. That was another thing Akechi had come to terms with before Akira insisted on wrenching it up.  
So what if he'd niavély wanted to “befriend” the thieves? That, clearly, didn't stop him from slaying their leader, the one he was closest to in the first place. He made his choice. 

More than he didn't need people, Akechi hadn't done anything to earn their concern. It was almost appalling that Ann wanted to take a shot at befriending him, considering the fact that she perceived him as a villain. It wasn't difficult to tell, no matter how kind she'd been. She shouldn't have offered up her forgiveness.  
Perhaps some thought otherwise, but that wasn't Goros' problem. He'd managed to isolate himself from others before, and he intended to do it again. 

It was this train thought, lodged stubbornly in the forefront of his mind, that was blown away by a rare notification from his messaging app. He sat up in bed, interestedly scanning what the Unknown number sent.  


Unknown

Hello. This is Goro Akechi, is it not? 

Who exactly wants to know?

He narrowed his eyes, deeply suspicious as the sender typed their response. Surely he wasn't doxxed? He'd somewhat diligently remained anonymous, on all social media he hadn't left altogether, and as even as a public figure his personal information was top-secret. What gives? 

Unknown

Yusuke Kitagawa.

We were informal-confreres, during your time as a thief, remember?

Well, _yes_ I do remember.

Is there a reason you texted me?

Or wait, lemme guess-

You wanted to “hang out,” correct?

Yes, precisely

You'd shown prior interest, to my recollection.

Shit. Akechi sighed, defeated by the truth of the matter.  
He _had_ ; the two of them shared a commute, and Akechi knew Yusuke from the many hours spent prodding at Madarame. In short, he was interested in getting to know him. It was silly.  
In hindsight, the memories of following Yusuke around and forcing conversation were cringe-worthy to him. It must have come across as total desperation on Goros' part.  
(It was, of course, but he didn't want to acknowledge that.) 

Yusuke

Well? Will you join me?

Akechi sighed, glancing reluctantly at his bedroom door. It was more difficult than he'd thought, hiding away and doing nothing but schoolwork for even the short amount of time he'd elected to.  
It was getting late, and _he_ was getting bored. Hesitance present in every letter he typed, he offered this in response:  


Where at…? 

Yusukes' response had a satisfied air about it, even in something as simple as an address, seeming to take the question as an acceptance of his invitation.  
Well, shit. It _was_ in cycling distance.  
Forcing himself out of bed, Akechi tied back his hair and combed through the tangles, trying to at least make himself look less corpse-like if he really _was_ going out. 

Then, scolding himself for commencing with this, Akechi started towards the given address.  
It wasn't a big deal. Yusuke had never seemed to like him, particularly, so there was some intrigue to being invited out. And, much to his behest, it _was_ difficult breaking routine and not showing up to Leblanc. These days Akira worked early enough that the two had time to chat.  
Maybe Yusuke had spoken with him? 

No matter the provocation, Akechi quickly arrived at the location his phone had marked off. It was an odd destination; a dog park closed off for the day, leaving the grassy perimeter empty save for a tall boy with a hefty-looking black bag. Even from the side, Akechi recognized him-  
Madarames' pupil, and the one who asked that they meet. Abandoning his bike on the roadside, he approached him with caution as if advancing upon a wild animal.  
When Yusuke suddenly turned to face him, Akechi flinched.  


YUSUKE: Ah.  
As if Yusuke hadn't been staring off into space, he regarded Akechi with a nod, looking utterly unperturbed by the boys' arrival.  
YUSUKE: Hello there. I'm quite shocked that you accepted my invitation, so you have my thanks for that.  
AKECHI: Right...  
Akechi surveyed his surroundings. In the direction that Yusuke had been staring, the sun began to set, a few buildings overshadowing the otherwise picturesque horizon.  
AKECHI: What is it we're doing here?   


A spark of elation crossed the taller boys face, shrugging the bag off his shoulder to then remove its contents.  
YUSUKE: Right!  
He pulled from the bag a small canvas and stand, unfolding the legs and using it to contain the blank slate. Then he removed an identical set, repeating the process. After that, the only thing left in the bag were paints, brushes, and palettes to hold them, by which point Akechi had deduced their plans for the evening. 

Painting.  
Although it had become obvious, Yusuke still went on explaining, gesturing at the landscape around them as he did so.  
YUSUKE: I'm not of any particular skill when it comes to traditional manners of "hanging out", so I supposed this would be interesting to try when I was told we should meet.  
YUSUKE: Painting with someone, that is. Apologies for failing to clarify.  
Akechi massaged his temples, cursing himself yet again for agreeing to this. This guy was the art freak. How could he forget? 

Instead of asking what was wrong, Yusuke nudged him with a palette.  
Akechi took it without thinking. Fuck!  
AKECHI: While I enjoy certain forms of art, I'm not exactly accustomed to the brush. I highly doubt I'll be able to render sunset or what have you.  
YUSUKE: Oh? Why is that?  
AKECHI: What do you mean why's-  
AKECHI: I can't paint!  
Yusuke took a few bottles from the bag and squeezed them onto his palette, before returning them to their place for future use.  
YUSUKE: Of course you can. Technical skill has nothing to do with your inherent ability to create. You have hands and eyes, so surely you can paint?  


Akechi sighed, but it sounded more like a huff. Picking up a brush, he puzzled over where to start. Attempting to peek at Yusuke's work only revealed that he'd faced his canvas away.... Would Akechi be included in Yusukes' project, then? Hopefully not. The idea of being rendered like this, struggling to paint, was not at all attractive. 

He huffed again, feeling more temperamental. What did it matter?  
Unscrewing the red, Akechi started with a long crimson line.  
Silence. Ugh.  
AKECHI: Why did you invite _me_ to do this?  
YUSUKE: As I said, it was suggested that I reach out to you. By Akira, our mutual friend.  
AKECHI: … and you listened. Why?  
He shrugged, looking over his canvas and directly at Akechi.  
YUSUKE: Why not? I wanted to. I was curious about you.  
That made him perk up interestedly, Yusukes' curiosity pertaining to him an unanticipated factor.  
AKECHI: Curious about me. How so?  


The reddening sky faded up to a dark blue, going purple in between. Akechi reckoned that was a sufficient place to start, and went on to collect the colors he'd require.  
AKECHI: How do I wash my brush, exactly?  
YUSUKE: Ah! Right, apologies.  
Looking pleased (for reasons Goro couldn't discern), Yusuke tossed him a bottle of water, humming that he brought another.  
YUSUKE: As for my curiosity concerning you-  
YUSUKE: Before it was revealed that your memory had allowed you to survive, like Morgana, I spent a deal of time thinking about you. The situation was a disheartening one, indeed.  
YUSUKE: Afterwards, I was just curious as to how you were doing. Therefore, when it was suggested that we spend time together, I took it as a sign to reach out.  


The crow rolled his eyes.  
AKECHI: Well, you shouldn't have. Akiras' simply got it in his head that I need to make amends with all of you.  
YUSUKE: Really? That is strange.  
AKECHI: Is it?  
YUSUKE: I wasn't under the impression that there was a need for “mending” between us, so to speak.  
AKECHI: I lied to and betrayed your team, killing your leader in assistance of the enemy; I tried to kill you, personally, as well as all the other thieves; I framed your group for murder.  
YUSUKE: I have not forgotten.  
AKECHI: So how, exactly, does one expect things to be hunky dory between us?   


In the process of getting more brown, Yusuke paused to stare at Akechi, giving him a look of appraisal. Akechi loured, face pinned up in annoyance.  
YUSUKE: While it originally occurred to me that you were a traitor, after everything was revealed I saw no reason to hold a grudge.  
Shaking his head, Yusuke continued work on his canvas without another hitch.  
YUSUKE: You weren't really acting on your own accord, after all.  
AKECHI: That doesn't change much, does it?  
YUSUKE: Perhaps not. But the way I see it, I could have gone down a similar path if things were only a little different. If we'd intervened sooner, maybe the crux of the conflict could have been avoided.  


Akechi chewed at his cheek.  
AKECHI: It was too late for me.  
He said it in past tense, as if referring to someone who was already lost as opposed to himself. Yusuke didn't point this out.  
YUSUKE: I disagree. Not just on principal, but because it would be a betrayal of what I know to be true.  
YUSUKE: It wasn't too late for any of us, so it stands to reason the same is true for you.  
AKECHI: I'm not _like_ any of you.  
AKECHI: You say you could have been a similar person to me, but the key word is _could have_. You weren't.  


Yusuke was silent for a time, appearing to give it some thought. Then, he chuckled. His laugh was low and bellowing, even though it lasted just a moment, and Akechi couldn't help frowning at the sound.  
AKECHI: What..?  
YUSUKE: I was thinking about Madarame's distortion. I felt so alone, when it all began.  
YUSUKE: And discovering the truth… that I'd been manipulated, that he caused my mother's death.  
YUSUKE: If I'd made that discovery still alone in the studio, no Phantom Thieves to give me support, I don't know what would have become of me. Of my art! I had nothing to give my life structure or guidance, besides them.  
Akechi cringed.  
YUSUKE: I'm ashamed to admit that, in my anger, I might've simply killed his shadow. There was no way of knowing about treasures without Morgana, after all.  
YUSUKE: That is why I say you are worthy of a chance. It would simply seem unfair not to.  


Akechi considered. Talking like this with someone like Yusuke was uncharted territory in the most real sense possible. The closest he'd ever gotten to discussing his issues like this was when, amid his second persona painfully emerging, he'd taken to some anonymous chat site to cry about his issues. It feels so long ago, now.  
Was he really only fourteen? fourteen…  
The feeling of his still-growing hands gripping a gun for the first time, the recoil against his weak body, the ringing—  


AKECHI: It was a few months before my fourteenth birthday, when I killed her.   
AKECHI: Wakaba Isshiki.  
He thought of Futaba, the then unfamiliar little girl wandering about the woman's palace. _“Wandering-”_ she was _trapped_ , the child's shadowy counterpart a frail thing crying out for her mother and being, ultimately, ignored.  
AKECHI: I took someone's mother away, like Madarame did to you. Like my father did to me. Is that not unforgivable?  
YUSUKE: The circumstances were different.  


A more violent sunset has never been painted. Akechi's brush shook with the anger being channeled through it.  
AKECHI: Why does it matter?  
For the first time in their conversation, something akin to genuine frustration seeped into Yusukes' manner, the boy taking a sharp heavy breath as if in defiance. Akechi hoped that was a sign of Yusuke understanding this wasn't a battle worth the effort. That he'd pack up and leave, leave Akechi alone, lonely and small like he deserved. This is what he deserved.  


YUSUKE: It matters because there's a difference between the way my childhood was systematically destroyed by Madarame, and a child's blind anger being used by an adult to do his bidding.  
YUSUKE: You know just as well as I that the two aren't equivalent.  
The vulnerability in his voice made Akechi want to retreat, to a conversation safe from realizations like maybe he wasn't alone in this pain. But he kept pushing, because Akechi never knew when to quit.  


AKECHI: So what! Do I just walk away scot-free?  
AKECHI: Madarame was punished for his crimes by the law, but even still, were your problems with him not personal? Did you not want to see him in pain?  
AKECHI: Even with “people behind you,” I can't even begin to fathom not wanting vengeance. I am not a good person, Yusuke Kitagawa. I am not a hero or a tragic thing worth saving. It's easier for everyone if you accept that.  
Yusuke had abandoned his canvas, face looking stricken with thought. Akechi glanced back and winced when he was closer than before, close enough to start a fight if he so desired. Unable to meet his eyes, Akechi simply stared back.  


YUSUKE: Perhaps it is easier for you.  
YUSUKE: To wallow in self hatred like that, and accept that you're beyond saving so you don't have to do anything about it. But people have grown to like you. It is not easier for them in the slightest.  
Akechi sneered.  
AKECHI: What, you mean my fans? The Detective Prince isn't _real_.  
YUSUKE: Your fans-? No, I mean the people who knew you personally. And those of us who wanted to. Akira, namely. Why else would he try to look out for you?  
His voice raised involuntarily, mentions of Akira dragging up an old anger he thought long-extinguished by now.  
AKECHI: I didn't ask for him, or for this. For any of this!  
YUSUKE: I apologise.  
A pause. Akechi stood, still save for the way his ragged breaths shook him. Yusuke tilted his head, raising a long slender hand and- instead of hitting him- wiped a stray tear from Akechi's face. They were pretty hands, albeit pale, the act of comfort so natural to him that Yusuke didn't even seem to think about it. His touch was careful and unshaking, as if handling porcelain.  
Akechi was startled out of glaring, flinching back once he realized the contact persisted. His heart beat so loudly that he felt he could hear it, a mix of embarrassment and sheer panic.  
_Yusuke saw him cry_ , even if out of anger. It was an unforgivable crack in resolve.  
YUSUKE: I did not set out to upset you.  


Akechi laughed, bitter and breathless.  
AKECHI: I'm sure you didn't.  
Looking satisfied with this response, Yusuke returned to his canvas. The space where he was standing felt vacant. Akechi hated himself for being disappointed that Yusuke didn't hug him, instead. Pathetic, selfish child, his mind screamed at him, despite his attempts to evade it.  
YUSUKE: Would you care to talk about it?  
This shocked him, yet again.  
AKECHI: Maybe. I don't know. I've never… eugh.  
YUSUKE: It's of no consequence to me, either way.  


It truly didn't seem to be, either. A soft, focused stroke of yellow finished the sun, and Akechi moved on to fill in the black buildings.  
AKECHI: I hate even thinking about it. And him.  
AKECHI: There's a part of me that he poisoned, irrevocably, and I can never have it back. I mean, it's ridiculous- I went to him, some stupid little kid trying to convince a grown man I had “magical powers” he could use.  
AKECHI: I must have looked so daft and desperate.  
YUSUKE: You should not be so harsh.  
AKECHI: But it's true, isn't it?  
YUSUKE: Possibly. But how else should you have been? I have come to understand children as notoriously unreasonable, if certain members of our team are anything to go by.  


Akechi tried to reflect on himself, at any point, as a child. He never felt like a kid, after his mom died. He often felt _small_ , but that feeling hadn't exactly disappeared, either.  
Should he still feel like a kid? He's not an adult yet, legally, and won't be for a few years, but...  
AKECHI: A child, hm? I never saw myself that way.  
YUSUKE: Nor did I. I was always inconsolably focused on responsibility and my future, and on meeting my teachers expectations.  
YUSUKE: But I think that must be normal, when very adult emotions struck me so early. I believe, in any case, it wasn't my fault.  
That... Akechi made a thoughtful noise.  
_Adult emotions_. It felt like such a strange notion, but it was right, wasn't it? If Akechi hadn't been exposed to that grief, that anger, that feeling of utter abandonment and loneliness… surely he'd be a better person, now.  
But then, that was obvious. If he hadn't been exposed to that, he wouldn't be like this at all. That “better” version of himself… eugh. That's not what he wanted to aspire to at all. 

YUSUKE: I would like to get therapy someday, if I can afford it. Perhaps you should do the same?  
Akechi cringed, recalling his only encounters with therapists as either vague or vividly terrible.  
AKECHI: Therapists are useless. They just tell you what you want to hear and offer pity in return. I'd rather handle things alone.  
Yusuke went quiet, which was troubling at first, but there's humour in his voice when he finally speaks up.  
YUSUKE: That does not seem to be working particularly well for you, if you don't mind my saying.  
YUSUKE: It's worth a try, at any rate. According to Makoto.  
Yeah, taking advice from the Niijima girl wasn't on his list of “things to do before I die.” But regardless, Yusuke seemed genuine in his intentions… that's something, at least. 

The two entered a state of noiseless concentration, Akechi growing to forget himself as he minutely focused on making the painting look good. Clearly photorealism would be unattainable, and it didn't help that his target _moving_. But he did his best, calling upon his past skills to help him out with this. Was graffiti really a good measure of skill? He thought he was alright at it, but… still.  
Wiping sweat from his brow, he finally registered the way his gloves were coated in all manners of paint. Without meaning to, Akechi had been consumed by the task. It was therapeutic.  
Finished, he took a step back and was surprised to not immediately loathe it. It wouldn't be mistaken for anything professional, and the sky _did_ change a great deal over the course of their meeting, but it wasn't… awful.  
He smiled, a little pleased.  


Behind him, he caught a glimpse of Yusuke who was yet again mutely observing him with almost vacant eyes.  
AKECHI: Ah… are you finished, too?  
YUSUKE: I finished some time ago. It was very informative, however, watching the way you went about painting something.  
There was something enamoured in Yusukes' voice that stopped Akechi from feeling too uncomfortable. Still, it was embarrassing to think that someone who'd studied art so much was analyzing his every move, as much as he tried to hide it.  
AKECHI: I'm sure I didn't betray my strictly amateur status.  


Then, suddenly inquisitive, he moved to examine Yusukes' canvas.  


AKECHI: Oh.  
Akechi was in it. More than that-  
Akechi wasn't in the drawing so much as he _was_ the drawing. It was him, painting the sunset, hair pinned back in a ponytail and sleeves rolled up, which happened halfway through the process of trying not to spill his paint water. People had drawn him before, but never _like this_. He looked focused, completely absorbed in painting, but there was something about his face, too...  
Akechi turned away, coming eye-to-eye with Yusuke. 

YUSUKE: You made for an excellent muse. I'd tried rendering you before, based on pictures, but it always came out looking… wrong. Some aspect of your expression was askew, I suppose.  
YUSUKE: I'm glad to have finally been able to paint you properly.  
He looked content with himself, as if satisfied at having finally drawn the “real” Akechi.  
AKECHI: I-  
He stopped, surprised at the tumult in his voice.  
AKECHI: Oh, for fucks sake.  
YUSUKE: Oh?  


Goro marched over to his sunset painting and picked it up by the edges, offering it to Yusuke with a cross expression.  
AKECHI: Here. I don't have anything to do with it, so.  
YUSUKE: I… you want me to keep your work?  
AKECHI: Yes. What does it matter?  


Yusuke beamed, properly _grinned_ as if having been bestowed something great. He took it with a nod, looking it over far more carefully. Feeling scrutinized, Goro fought the urge to blush.  
YUSUKE: It would be my honor. I will take the utmost care to see it remains unharmed.  
AKECHI: Don't make this a bigger deal than it is.  
Akechi grunted his words to dispel all excitement, but Yusuke just ignored him, replacing the canvas on its respective stand and gesturing languidly at his own work.  
YUSUKE: It's only fair that you receive my portrait of you, in turn.  
AKECHI: You… it- it looks good.   
Yusuke perked up, eyes widening.  
YUSUKE: You truly think so?  
AKECHI: I said it, didn't I?  
Yusuke didn't appear at all bothered by Akechis' snappiness, his smile only seeming to grow. Unnerving, it was.  
YUSUKE: Hah, yes.  


Then, clapping his hands together, Yusuke checked the time,  
YUSUKE: Shall we wait for them to dry, then?  
AKECHI: Wait and do what, exactly?  
YUSUKE: Hm. Just sit.  


So they sat. The grass was kept trimmed, but a few wildflowers had managed to sprout up. Akechi fiddled with them, tucking a few in his pocket. It was dark, the sun finally having disappeared, and a few stars were visible above them from this part of the city.  
Akechi stewed on what Yusuke said. He tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't leave his head now that there was nothing else to occupy him. Unconsciously, Akechi clasped the cheek that Yusuke had touched.  
Why? Just to be friendly? 

YUSUKE: I am glad that we were able to do this.  
YUSUKE: My apologies if you found our meeting to be unenjoyable. In hindsight, I suppose I should have realized painting is not something everyone enjoys.  
AKECHI: I didn't find it unenjoyable. I like art, anyways.  


Akechi glanced back at Yusuke, attempting to discern him, and for a moment the foxes expression morphed into one of realization. Then it settled back into a relaxed smile, demeanor seeming far less impenetrable than when Akechi first arrived.  
YUSUKE: For being unable to paint, your finished product was quite impressive.  
AKECHI: Is that so?  
YUSUKE: Yes. You must have a natural inclination to it- the look on your face, while painting...  
YUSUKE: I feel a great deal of emotions reflected back in the piece.  
AKECHI: You're just saying that.  
Yusukes' brow furrowed.  
YUSUKE: Why would I compliment your work without meaning it?  


Akechi couldn't help but feel a giddy sense of pride at that, no matter how unwarranted. Even after everything, how was it this easy to make him flustered? Utterly embarrassing. Still, his lingering self-worth problems were secondary to the pure amusement he felt as Yusuke began to ramble at him about specific techniques he used on his own painting, and how much he preferred the real thing over pictures.  
Being preferred as himself, instead of The Detective Prince… now there's an idea. 

YUSUKE: If you are ever interested in modeling for me again it would be a most exciting opportunity.  
He thought about it, still not sure how fond he is of being looked at. Being seen.  
AKECHI: I'm...  
He sighed, trailing off at the way Yusukes' hopeful expression faltered.  
AKECHI: ...Fine.  
Yusuke smiled at him once more.  
YUSUKE: Excellent.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, comment your thoughts! I appreciate feedback and criticism alike.


	3. Two Similar Swimming Forms in Endless Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi Goro continues to fail at abandoning others, despite what he says.

Leblanc hadn't changed. An intoxicating smell- like coffee beans and vanilla -still plagued the air; the dim lights were still supplemented by warm rays of sunshine; a murmuring hum still came from the TV in the corner. Sayuri, the shops' acting mascot, was still sitting pretty near the entrance.  
Akechi nodded at her, sensing that his suspicions were incorrect. Of course they were. Leblanc was an entity into itself; there was no reason to assume that it would change just because he didn't check on it for a few days.  
Leblanc hadn't changed.  
Goro Akechi hadn't changed, either.  


Noticing that whoever entered hadn't taken a seat, the boy behind the counter turned away from the television to glance at the entrance. For a moment, his dark eyes went wide, as if he hadn't anticipated ever seeing this regular again.  
The expression was brief, however, quickly morphing into a familiarly dorky smirk.  
AKIRA: What, d'you forget how to order?  
AKECHI: Tch. I wasn't gone _that_ long, was I?  
AKIRA: Well then?  
He gestured at the barstools, specifically the one where Akechi always sat.  
AKIRA: Take a seat.  


Akechi sat down in the one beside it.  
Akira Kurusu started on his drink immediately, the usual order committed to memory. He was quick at his work, astonishingly so- the way he made coffee was damn near mechanical. Akechi was just glad it meant getting his drink quicker. That gave them more time to talk.  
The sleepy atmosphere of Leblanc calmed his nerves slightly, but he still couldn't help trying to pick Akiras' brain. Was he really so unbothered, even though Akechi had been ignoring him? It looked that way, initially, but Akira was never particularly open with his feelings. 

Goro took the finished drink as it was offered, waiting for it to cool in his gloved hands.  
AKECHI: So.  
AKIRA: Mm?  
AKECHI: You called me quite a bit, last night. Was there something you wanted to say?  
Akira chuckled, trying to hide the way he flinched with a shrug. Goro watched him.  
AKIRA: It wasn't really anything. Yusuke said you met up, and I was curious.  


The crow sipped his coffee.  
AKECHI: So late at night?  
Akira shrugged again, absently twisting a lock of the other boys' hair. Huffing, Akechi swatted him away, trying not to find the silly gesture amusing.

AKIRA: Just couldn't sleep.  
Then, with a dramatic flare:  
AKIRA: What, is a guy not allowed to miss his best bud?  
AKIRA: Truly, I was lost without you.  
He punctuated the statement with an obsequious bow, Akechi trying and failing to suppress a snort. Still, he made sure to roll his eyes at Akiras pleased expression after making him laugh. What a bother.  
AKECHI: I'm not your “best bud,” though I don't doubt you were bereft.  
AKIRA: Yeesh. You wound me.  


Morgana, who'd been napping in a nearby booth, stretched and yawned into awakeness. Listening in on their conversation, he leapt on the counter to curl up beside them.  
MORGANA: Told ya he was just in it for the free coffee.  
Akechi, albeit somewhat fondly, flicked him.  
MORGANA: Hey!  


Akira observed them, the cat quickly getting over his anger when Akechi began to pet him.  
AKIRA: Ooo, you two are buddies now then?  
Akechi hummed, slightly thoughtful.  
AKECHI: In a manner of speaking. I always found animals more tolerable than people.  


The shop was silent for a moment, Akira preparing a drink of his own and sitting down to enjoy it. He always took his coffee black.  
Akechi watched the dark-haired boy, aware of his every move, chug the bitter coffee down with delight.  
Leblanc was still hauntingly safe. It was safe in a way Akechi couldn't comprehend. Safe in a way his own bed wasn't. Could he really not resist visiting for even a week?  
It had become clear that, after everything, the one tether he couldn't shake was right before him. He'd forwent fame, abandoned all hope of praise, but time and time again Akechi felt his resolve soften when it came to shedding Akira and all the shit he brought with him. Knowing that, knowing the source of his own weakness, made it all the more maddening to sit there and drink with it as if nothing was amiss.  
Maybe nothing _was_ amiss. 

For a moment, Akechi entertained it- entertained the fantasy of a world where friendly conversation in a well-lit coffee shop doesn't mean that you're that much more exploitable. Where trust and happiness, _admitting_ that you're happy, don't feel like matters of life and death.  
His mind, achingly, rejected it. In a world like that, could Akechi even exist? 

Akira had started talking, something something _school_ , but Akechis' mind had wandered into static. He focused on the grooves in the walls, the cracks in her sturdy wooden structure. Lately, more than ever, it felt like he was drifting. Losing grip on who he was and what he wanted. Who he wan-  


Akira flicked him on the cheek.  
AKIRA: Are you listening?   


Akira didn't look particularly annoyed, his frown one of concern and curiosity. Concern made his lips go thin and his eyebrows push together; a smile suited his face much better.  
He was staring. Right.  
AKECHI: ...Yes?  


The barista chuckled and stole a drink of Akechi's coffee, making a disgusted face at the sweetness. Akechi glared half-heartedly.  
AKIRA: I was just thinking about, like, what happens from here on out. Where everyone's going after graduation. All that jazz.  
AKECHI: Oh? You've never been worried about our plans for the future before.  
Akira quirked a brow.  
AKIRA: _Our_ future plans?  


Akechi doesn't miss a beat when scowling, but his face betrays annoyance and Akira notices as much, giving a grossly coy look in response.  
AKECHI: I meant individually, dipshit. Don't expect me to follow you off to college like some kind of delusional puppy dog.  
Morgana stopped grooming himself to snicker.  
AKIRA: What makes you think I'd put up for you that long?  
Without meaning to, Akechi gave him a sidelong glance, voice a touch more serious than it had been.

AKECHI: You would.  
He looked away. It didn't matter- of course it didn't. They said that sort of thing all the time.  
So why did he feel the need to defend himself?  
AKECHI: You've managed to deal with me well enough thus far, haven't you?  


Akira hummed, but there was a shake to his voice. Was he nervous?  
Hopefully, the subject would dissipate. Living with Akira wasn't really something he'd extensively considered, and he had no real intentions of starting, either.  
But of course, that didn't happen.  
AKIRA: Yeah, but sharing a living space is different, isn't it? Morgana 'd have a fit.  
AKIRA: Besides, I don't even know if I _can_ go to college, let alone if I want to.  


He crossed his arms, regarding Akira with a mock-offended tone.  
AKECHI: I work well in shared spaces, thank you. I'm not entirely selfish. And, if not college, then what?  
Akira looked truly befuddled at the fact that they were debating this, but apparently not enough to drop it.  
Akechi supposed he should have known better; Akira was, notoriously, never one to pass up the opportunity to be a prick for the highly exalted “bit.” 

AKIRA: I appreciate your conviction,  
(His voice was impish and drawn-out, in a way one _could_ describe as cute, in theory, if such a thing were relevant to them. Not that Akechi would.)  
AKIRA: but the answer is no, you cannot move in with me. Morgana would claw you in your sleep.  
AKIRA: Also, _I_ don't even have to pay rent, so you living with me is an all con-deal; I'm just sharing spaces with another person at that point. As for my future,  
He leaned forward, looking infinitesimally sadder despite his clear attempts to mask it completely. Akechi studied him, and felt his own face drop.  
AKIRA: I guess I don't know. I mean, I'm “criminal trash,” right? That probably doesn't leave me with too many options.  


Akechi laughed out loud, a proper laugh even if one backed by annoyance. Akira didn't attempt to hide his prideful expression, which only added fuel to the fire.  
AKECHI: This isn't happening, I'm not doing it! This argument has been vetoed, by me.  
For emphasis, he made a slicing motion with his hands.  
AKECHI: Let's just focus on the “future” conversation, since it's the one I zoned out to.  
AKIRA: No! Now I'm curious, I want to hear your counterclaims.  
Akechi groaned.  
AKIRA: Indulge me.  


AKECHI: _Well_ ,  
He began, more intensely than intended.  
AKECHI: You're clearly moving the goal-post to annoy me, considering I made it rather clear that following you around was never my intention. Just that I'm not, _in theory_ , a bad roommate.  
AKECHI: Also, if your cat was stupid enough to try killing me, I think I could probably take him.  
A sharp exhale accompanies his voice going level, Morgana giving no objection once more scritches came his way.  
AKECHI: And in regards to my presence being an “all-con deal,” well. That's more up to whoever I'm living with, isn't it?  
Akechi gave his companion an earnest look. 

Things went quiet, save for the TVs humming and Morganas' purr.  
The door chimed, and a customer entered. Akira immediately stood to take her order, leaving Akechi to ruminate.  
He watched him closely, that time, as the coffee was prepared. It seemed like a complex order, but Akira had no trouble with it, performing each step with practiced efficiency. The customer, a young woman, fiddled impatiently, her muttering making Akira visibly anxious in an attempt to speed things up.  
By the time he handed over the styrofoam cup, Akira was sweating.  
Akechi forced himself to look away, a distantant feeling of something like pity assaulting him. He'd always had a difficult time empathising with others, and it didn't help that he'd always been jealous of Akira in the first place. Christ, what was wrong with him?  


Akira sat back down with a sigh, his smile fading back to neutrality the second she dashed out the door.  
Silence, yet again. The brunette chewed at the earpiece of his glasses.  
AKIRA: Last night, when I called you, it was because I had a dream.  
Akechi tilted his head.  
AKIRA: I never really dreamed much before but last night I did, and it was about you, so I wanted to give you a call.  


What had he been doing, then? It was around three in the morning, and Akechi remembered staring at the painting he was gifted.  
It seemed, at first, silly to give any metaphorical weight to a simple portrait of someone, but the more Akechi stared at the “him” Yusuke had painted, the more he wanted to look away.  
Eventually, he did just that, turning on YouTube and trying not to consider visiting Leblanc in the morning.  
Then, several times in a row, his phone wrang, and each time he sent it straight to voicemail, not wanting to face Akira.

It wasn't something he ever expected to feel particularly bad about.  
AKECHI: I see...  
AKIRA: I did try to get ahold of you before, though.  
AKIRA: What's kept you the past few days?  
AKECHI: Kept me?  
AKIRA: You know. From coming to Leblanc or answering my texts.  


Akechi thought about it, quite seriously. Guilt, mostly. Fear of obligation. Feeling as though he would be happier if he slunk away and stopped complicating things. He understood himself, to that degree. But then, this proved him wrong, didn't it? What did that matter to him?  
Why couldn't he just drink his damn coffee in peace? What was keeping him? What was keeping him?  
The question reverberated in his mind.  
AKECHI: I don't know.  


AKIRA: Well, you shouldn't break a good routine.  
His voice grew more quiet.  
AKIRA: Besides, I _did_ actually miss you.  
Akechi didn't respond with anything but a whispered 'I know', because he did. He knew. And it bothered him that such sentimentality managed to get under his skin, his softening skin, when did he become so undefended?  
When did this, all of this, become _enough_? A voice compelled him to storm out, to tell Akira to shut up and leave him alone if he knows what's good for him.  


Akechi allowed himself to fall into a heavy, contemplative quiet, but (as if sensing tension in the air) Akira quickly interjected by nudging him. When that failed to get his attention, Akira teetered to the side, leaning all his weight against the smaller boys shoulder.  
AKECHI: Gah!  
AKECHI: _What is it_?  
Akechi attempted to glare, but only succeeded in looking confused at Akiras' utterly goofy expression. Sitting right in his chair, he clasped his hands together-  
AKIRA: I just wanted to say that I was very proud of you.  
Akechis brows furrowed.  
AKECHI: Proud of me?  
AKIRA: Y'know, for hanging out with Yusuke. I didn't think you'd do it without me asking you to.   
Goro stammered momentarily.  
AKECHI: I did it because I wanted to, not on account of your silly “plan.”  
AKIRA: Well, yeah. That's a good thing, right?  
AKIRA: I always thought you two would get along.  


AKIRA: Speaking of which-   
AKIRA: Me and Ryuji were gonna go on a jog later, if you wanted to join us? Supposed to have good weather today.  
The offers intentions were plain as day, Akechi eyeing him suspiciously.  
AKECHI: You can't be serious.  
AKIRA: Sure I am.  
Sigh.  
AKECHI: You aren't slick, you know?  


Akira beamed.  
AKIRA: So you'll go?  
Akechi fought a smile of his own, standing up to leave.  
AKECHI: I'll think about it.  
He pushed through the door, Akira calling out to his back.  
AKIRA: CALL YOU LATER! LO-  


The door slammed shut, the rest of his statement muffled. Akechi sighed, face returning to a frown as he hopped on his bike and began pedalling home. 


	4. Alone Yet Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi finds old trouble, this time not alone.

Akira did, in fact, contact Akechi, albeit quite a bit later than anticipated, and via a text at that. It was well into the afternoon, and Akechi had taken to his usual routine of nothing in particular, forgetting the morning exchange by watching reruns of 90s dramas.  
Still, his phone sat on his lap, pinging just as season 2 of the second show was about to end.  


joker

hey you down to go on a walk ;)? 

if so ill send ryujis address, supposed to meet up at his house 1st

Akechi scanned the screen, brows furrowed in deep focus. Glancing up at his TV, he reached for the remote and checked the time stamp-  
Right.  


joker

Yes. Give me a moment

yeee (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)

With a sigh deep as the pits of Hell, Akechi got up to throw on a t-shirt and see if he could shovel out his gym shoes from somewhere, tritely planning to catch the next train.

Ryujis house was a good ways away, in a neighborhood dense with traffic yet somehow sparsely populated. The home itself was small, clearly suited for just a few people; was he an only child then?  
More than previously, it was impossible to deny to himself that this was something he was doing for Akira, specifically, which continued irk and elucidate him. His feelings were constantly changing, as did the pliability of his resolve. One second he's dedicated to ignoring the Kurusu boy, and the next he's jumping at any opportunity to see him again.  
Goro would think himself pathetic if he hadn't already come to that conclusion, anyway. 

Opting to just get it over with, Akechi rapped on the front door before his mind changed again. Moments later, a short woman with dark hair tied into a bun opened the door and gestured inside.  
**MS SAKAMOTO: You're the one the boys are waiting for, right? Come on in, dear.**  
AKECHI: Erm, yes. Thanks, ma'am.  
**MS SAKAMOTO: Oh, please, you make me feel old. You can call me mama, okay? All his friends do.**  
AKECHI: Oh. Uh, alright, then.  
He payed elaborate amounts of attention to his shoes, the woman walking down the hall and poking her head to the left.  
**MAMA: Honey!! Your friend is here!!!**  
RYUJI: Give us a sec!  


She looked back to Akechi, giving him a careful once-over.  
**MAMA: Well, now, where have I seen you before? Have you come over in the past?**  
AKECHI: No. You likely recognize me from the television.  
She snapped her fingers, nodding in realization.  
**MAMA: Right! The detective prince.**  
**MAMA: Ah, you must be rather unimpressed with us, but still, let me know if there's anything you need, 'kay? D'ya bring any water?**  
AKECHI: I- no, I didn't, but-  
Ryujis' mom shook her head.  
**MAMA: Well that won't do.**  


She scurried off to the right, presumably to fetch him a bottle of water. During her absence, Akira and Ryuji bounded down the opposite hall, conversation halting when they saw him.  
AKIRA: Hey!  
RYUJI: Yo-  
He craned his head.  
RYUJI: Where's ma'?  
AKECHI: She insisted on getting me a water bottle.  
Akechi must have looked fussy, because Ryuji immediately snorted at him. On cue, the woman in question returned, handing Akechi the beverage as promised. He thanked her, so quietly she didn't seem to hear.  
**MAMA: Have fun, kids.**  
**MAMA: Don't stay out too late, y'hear? Dinner shouldn't take too long. I trust you'll stay safe out there.**  
RYUJI: Kay.  
Akira nodded, and Akechi followed his lead. Then she was gone, and the three of them were alone together. 

AKIRA: Should we go?  
RYUJI: Uh, yeah.  
Ryuji levelled a stare at Akechi, clearly somewhat thoughtful.  
AKECHI: Something the matter?  
RYUJI: Nah.  
Ryuji brushed past him.  
RYUJI: Just didn't think you'd show up is all.  
AKECHI: Sorry to disappoint.  
He said it under his breath, but Ryuji didn't seem to care either way, waiting outside his front door for the other two to follow. Akira sighed, not looking at all nervous.  
AKIRA: Don't worry about him. He's just not sure how to feel about you.  
AKECHI: Well, then he's smarter than I thought.  
AKIRA: Hah. Whateveer.  


It was, as advertised, a walk, though Ryuji remained ahead in a slow half-jog.  
It was silent, for the most part, but as they left the neighborhood Akechi spoke up, having spent the past few minutes trying to convince himself not to.  
AKECHI: Are we headed somewhere in particular?  
RYUJI: Not really-  
He slowed down momentarily, keeping pace with Akira and Goro.  
RYUJI: -we usually head this way, since it's safer for pedestrians and shit.  
AKIRA: It's a nice day for this sort of thing.  
Akira hummed, observing a couple and their baby on a stroll.  
RYUJI: Yeah. Hopefully it lasts, this year.  
AKECHI: Do you do this sort of thing often?  
Ryuji shrugged.  
RYUJI: Sorta. Akiras' a pretty busy guy, but we still hang out a lot.  
RYUJI: Why'd you decide to join us, anyhow?  


As they reached an area dense with people walking about, Akechi couldn't help feeling watched. He shrunk into himself slightly.  
AKECHI: I was invited.   
RYUJI: Well, _yeah_.  
RYUJI: But it always came across like ya thought just hanging out with people was a waste of time.  
AKECHI: You didn't seem to be complaining about that.  
RYUJI: Trust me, I wasn't, Mr. Detective.  
AKIRA: Guys! Chill. Jeez.  
AKECHI: Hmpf.   
RYUJI: Sorry, sorry! I'm cool.  


AKECHI: You're free to hold a grudge all you like, but obviously my views on your group were greatly exaggerated for the sake of my plans.  
Ryuji cocked his head to the side.  
RYUJI: Oh? So what, you were a actually fan?  
Akechi crossed his arms, staring to the side with an indignant expression.  
_Fan_ was a bit of a stretch.  
AKECHI: Not at all. I _admired_ your work, maybe, and was interested in how you were using the metaverse. But I was not a “phanboy.”  
RYUJI: Duuude- you so were! He so was.  
AKIRA: Pff, really?  
Akira smiled slyly.  
AKIRA: This is news to me.  
RYUJI: Not so fast, Akira. You were totally a fan of him, too!  
AKECHI: What?  
AKIRA: Nuh-uh!  
RYUJI: Yeah-huh. Annoyed the hell out of me, wouldn't stop watching reruns of the “pretty detective” in Leblanc. Could barely drink coffee in peace.  
AKECHI: _Really_? I'd be flattered, if me and the “pretty detective” had anything in common.  
Akira huffed, twiddling his fingers.  
AKIRA: You still look the same.  
Oh.  
RYUJI: Boooo!  
RYUJI: Buncha fanboys, the lot o' ya.  
AKECHI: I resent the accusation.  
AKIRA: Yeah, same!  


Ryuji opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by the sound of a giggle from nearby.  
RYUJI: Mmh. You still got any actual fans out and about?  
AKECHI: Well, naturally. Why?  
RYUJI: Just a feeling...  


They increased their pace, making several odd turns at Ryujis cue. The eerily recognizable feeling of being watched failed to leave, though. Teen girls made up the majority of his fan-base, quite viscous creatures to deal with he'd learned. Their respect for personal space was... Minimal, and they always seemed insistent on making strange passes at him. The flirtation was never anything but uncomfortable.  
Then there was the older generation, who saw him as someone admirable but too “trendy.” And true crime buffs... Many people united under his banner, at the prime of his fame, and thinking on it extensively made his skin crawl.  
Hearing people talk about him like he wasn't right there wasn't a _new_ sensation, but it still burned.  
AKIRA: Do you wanna just leave?  


No sooner than that statement did the muffled conversation get louder, whoever owned the giggles rushing up behind Akechi and tugging on his sleeve.  
**GOROGIRL: Are you The Detective Prince?**  
AKECHI: ...N-No?  
Whoever they were with shouted to the people nearby, and just like that a small crowd was forming, curious as to what famous person was here. The flash of a camera went off. Panic swirled in his chest, though he fought valiantly against it. This was nothing new- he could handle it.  
They'd all three stopped, now sharing worried glances.  
AKIRA: What should we do?  
AKECHI: Hm… run away?  
Ryuji flinched away from someone who reached out to grab him. Looking urgent, he leaned back against Akira.  
RYUJI: Great plan! Let's hurry.  


So, they ran.  
Well, really they _sprinted,_ immediately taking off as fast as their legs could carry them in an attempt to lose the curious onlookers. And indeed, quite a few of them gave up, but not nearly enough to let them stop and breathe, just as many giving chase.  
RYUJI: Shit!   
Thoroughly frustrated at the interruption, Akechi threw his hand back and punted the water bottle into the crowd with all his might. A few people scattered, but a great many more gasped and kept shouting, determined to steal his attention. Or get retribution. A tabloid would definitely hear about that...  


The bottle was kicked forward, hitting Akira and causing him to stumble- the moment of hesitation did not bode well.  
AKECHI: Hey!  
The brunette was swept up in the throng of bodies, Ryuji and Akechi watching in horror as their companion was left behind.  
AKIRA: I'M FINE!  
Even shouting over the chaos it was difficult to hear him, but they were forced to continue all the same.  


They made a left, down a street of short and stocky buildings that seemed to end in a fork.  
RYUJI: Should we split?  
Goro swept hair from his face, trying to think rationally.  
AKECHI: This running about isn't _helping_! They aren't deterred at all.  


Suddenly, he skidded to a stop, whipping to face the clusters of people with his hands raised in protest. Most stopped, listening interestedly, a few creeping a little closer to take a picture. Feeling so utterly _perceived_ , after so long without any major encounter, made the detective prince shudder.  
This, of course, didn't inhibit his cheerful voice and bright smile from kicking in as it should've.  
AKECHI: Please, everyone, don't bother those I was seen with; there is no reason to pursue them.  
AKECHI: I ask that… if I stay here-  
Akechi glanced behind him, eyes locking with Ryujis'. The blonde stared for a second, before taking the hint and turning to leave the mob to him.  
AKECHI: -he should be allowed to walk away without trouble, alright?  


Ryuji huffed.  
There was nothing he could be expected to do, anyways. This was Akechi's problem and no one else's. It's not as though they were friends.  
He chuckled nervously, trying desperately to answer all the questions being levelled at him at once- soon, he would take off in another direction, once his remaining companion had time to evade the masses.  


The discomfort was not alien to him.  
Feeling like his skin was too tight, like his feet were heavy as bricks, the inherent seclusion of being so surrounded.  
Perhaps it was foolish to think he could ever wholly escape it, and even more so to think that _Skull_ of all people could ever want to be his ally at a time like this.  
Maybe he belonged here, being groped at by strangers who all felt entitled to a moment of his attention. 

Just as the thought entered his mind, a hand roughly grabbed Akechi by the shirt and jerked him towards a dark space between buildings that he hadn't even noticed whilst backing away. Instinctively, he moved to shout, but the stranger used his free hand to cover his mouth.  
RYUJI: Dude, _shh_.  
Oh. He...  
Huh.  
The revelation didn't quite halt his heart palpitations, but Goro at least no longer feared for his life. From the sound of it, people seemed to have missed where he was dragged to, the shadowy gap hidden from their perception. 

Eventually, the crowd seemed to dissipate altogether, people either losing interest or scanning for him in another direction.  
Ryujis' grip on the boy softened, prompting him to stumble forward and lean against the parallel wall.  
Akechi made a valiant effort to remain moored, but the wheeze of his breath gave him away. Sounding slightly alarmed, Ryuji placed a hand on his shoulder, which Goro quickly shoved away.  
RYUJI: Shit- sorry, I prolly shoulda' warned you better. Didn't mean to freak you out there.  
AKECHI: Ha- no, it's fine.  
An lie; clearly he wasn't at his best, because it was so obvious that Ryuji picked up on it immediately.  
RYUJI: Man, you sound asthmatic or something. You sure?  
AKECHI: Asthma?  
RYUJI: Yeah. My mom'd prolly let you borrow her inhaler.  


Akechi shook his head, finally shrugging his savior away.  
AKECHI: No, it's like I said. I'm fine. Just not used to being touched so suddenly.  
There's no good way to communicate that the sensation of being held securely was so overwhelming that it sickened you, so he did his best to dance around it without lying again.  
Still, Ryuji seemed to understand at least somewhat, moving on without seeming particularly annoyed. That's… good, then. Probably.  
RYUJI: Ah. Uh...  
RYUJI: So then, do you wanna get out of here?  


Akechi immediately tensed despite his attempt to appear unbothered, glancing at the exit of their hiding spot with paranoia.  
RYUJI: Oh, not that way! Not yet, least.  
Ryuji walked a little further into the alley, gesturing at the far wall which had a ladder at the top. They'd have to jump a bit, but it'd at least get them out of the dank corner, _and_ completely out of sight.  
Akechi nodded. 

Climbing atop some of the discarded shit, Ryuji hoisted himself up with the bottom of the ladder and painstakingly shimmied onto the roof. Goro watched, interestedly, jolting a little when he suddenly reached down to offer his hand.  
RYUJI: Yo, grab on! It'll be easier for ya.  
AKECHI: Ehh...  
The blondes eyes widened; he began to retract whilst mumbling an apology, looking flustered for offering in the first place. Brow furrowed, Akechi reached out and took his hand before it was gone. Ryuji stared down at him, bewildered, but his bewilderment quickly phased into a smile as he began pulling the smaller man up.  


RYUJI: Oof! There ya go.  
Akechi exhaled a sigh of relief, looking at him earnestly as their hands quickly parted. Unsurprisingly, he found his palms sweaty.  
AKECHI: I...  
AKECHI: Thank you.  
RYUJI: Heh. No big deal.  
They each individually observed their surroundings, Akechis' eyes trained on the now reddening sky. Sitting criss-cross on the roof of some building after escaping a mob… probably not how most runs went.  


Tentatively, Akechi spoke as Ryuji began fiddling with his phone.  
AKECHI: When I stopped in front of those people-  
RYUJI: Hm?  
AKECHI: You could have very well just escaped. It would have been in your best interest. Being seen with me does you no favours.  
AKECHI: So why? Why did you- why _would_ you decide to, for lack of a better word, “save” me?  
RYUJI: Mmh. Dunno, to be honest. You're a pretty annoying guy.  
AKECHI: Hah!  
RYUJI: But… I think it's because of the way you looked? All those people grabbing at you, screaming and shit. You looked- I dunno, scared? Vulnerable?  
RYUJI: Undefended!  
RYUJI: And nobody deserves that type'a treatment.  
Akechi smiled, so subtly that he himself didn't notice.  
AKECHI: Even me?  
AKECHI: You _do_ recall who I am, right?  


Ryuji rolled his eyes.  
RYUJI: Uh, yeah dude, I haven't forgotten.  
RYUJI: Actually, another reason is your weird detective prince demeanor was _really_ wigging me out.  
RYUJI: I got so used to seeing you all like:  
Ryuji made a face somewhere between a wince and a grimace. Akechi looked startled, making an offended noise.  
AKECHI: I don't look like _that_.  
RYUJI: Well, not always I guess. But your real smile definitely isn't detective prince-y, either.  
AKECHI: Ah, well then I sincerely apologise.  
RYUJI: Don't get nippy, sheesh. Never said I was complaining, did I?   


Akechi went to defend himself after a moment of deliberation, yet again feeling far too self-aware for comfort, but Ryuji beat him to the punch by suddenly motioning to the screen of his phone.  
RYUJI: Right, so I told Akira our general location and he said he was close by. Once we've regrouped properly we can walk back to my house- mom'll have a fit if we're out too much later anyway.  
Akechi offered a lazy salute, voice dry as his face.  
AKECHI: Aye aye, captain.  
RYUJI: Oi!  
RYUJI: That's Captain _Kid_ to you.  
Akechi chuckled stiffly. Captain Kid... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Be sure to comment your thoughts!**  
>  Not me plagiarizing the anthology again... Listen it's just so good, how could I not take inspiration? This was a fun chpt to write. Please, comment your thoughts! I appreciate feedback and criticism alike.


	5. Some Comfort Gained from the Acceptance of the Inherent Lies in Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun for the whole family: laser tag! Gunning things down in the dark is a practised art. Of course, Makoto Nijima's presence... Throws a wrench in things, to say the least.

Goro Akechi, despite Akiras' insistence otherwise, did not walk back to Ryujis' house for dinner. There was a deep pit in his stomach, sure, but the main source was not hunger; indeed, as per usual there was a lot on his mind. Loyalty, friendship, forgiveness, the sort of thing you'd hear preached in children's cartoons and what it meant that such things now confronted him head on. 

Hah.  
It was so curious, the perhaps niavé willingness to extend a hand to those you don't care for just because helping them felt right. Ryuji Sakamoto was, if nothing else, heartful in a way that Akechi fundamentally didn't understand.  
The evening was spent half-finishing a movie, his mind preoccupied. Clearly he had endeared himself to Ryuji _somehow_ , then. Perhaps he was a different, more tolerable person now? The thought was… not appealing. Life _would_ likely be easier if everyone didn't hate him, though.

He ended up sleeping on the couch, too exhausted to move elsewhere. 

The next few weeks came and went quickly, the world refusing to leave Akechi alone. Yusuke followed up on his modeling offer, Ann took him to lunch, Ryuji offered to see a movie with him as "reparations." Though Akechi spoke briefly to Akira every morning, the barmaid still insisted that they hang out _properly_ whenever school wasn't in the way. Though he'd often refuse offers out of principal, many still forced him out against his will. It… didn't bother him as much as it should've.  
Still, he preferred to stay home when possible, having started getting into video games to pass the time. The competitive nature of many titles lead to him hyperfocusing on certain milestones, and staying up late as a result.  
One such night, he didn't fall asleep until three am, after several days of hardly any sleep at all. 

When he entered Leblanc the following morning Akira was behind the counter, drying a mug and making small talk with the only customer who'd arrived before him.  
It was a short girl with bobbed brown hair and a serious air about her, expression one of disdaining amusement. The doorbell made her flinch, glancing over at whoever entered and starting again at the sight of _him_.  
MAKOTO: _Akechi_?  
He shrunk back in surprise himself.  
AKECHI: Ah. Niijima-san.  
AKIRA: Welcome. You're here earlier than usual, too.  


Feeling suddenly tense, Akechi sat down in his seat. Akira winked, about to start on his drink when Goro suddenly shook his head.  
AKECHI: Not today. I really need to figure out my sleep schedule.  
AKIRA: Gotcha.  
Running a gloved hand through his hair, he brightened his voice as naturally as possible. It was far too early for this.  
AKECHI: So! You aren't usually in at this time.  
Though she'd been spacing off a bit, seemingly lost in thought, Makoto immediately snapped back at the sound of his voice. She returned his polite grin with one of her own, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.  
MAKOTO: Yes, you're correct. I've been having sleep-related problems myself, and Joker here- ever the clever one- suggested that I stop taking my caffeine in the evening.  
AKIRA: What can I say? I do my best.  
MAKOTO: You do very well.  
She leaned forward to pat Akira on the cheek, humming through the joke with such a straight face that Akechi couldn't help narrowing his eyes.

AKIRA: Pff. I forgot you two got along so poorly.  
Makoto stumbled on her words for a moment. They exchanged glances.  
MAKOTO: I'm- not sure what you mean.  
It had to be a lie, but even still it was a good one. Truly, he disliked the girl in a passive sense, thinking her not worth the energy of hating. She was one of those sweet narc types, stuck-up and obsessed with looking good to those who ordered her around. Even among the Phantom Thieves, she didn't seem like much of a fixture. 

According to the district attorney, Sae, she had much to be proud of, but not even _she_ seemed particularly fond of the girl. He didn't blame her.  
AKECHI: Why would I have a problem with her? We hardly even spoke.  
Akira sighed, though his grin didn't disappear.  
AKIRA: Right...  
AKIRA: Well, you two ought to catch up some time. Put the bad blood behind you and stuff.  
MAKOTO: I just said-  
MAKOTO: Ugh. I simply don't have the free time.  
Goro smirked.  
AKECHI: Oh, that's too bad...  
AKIRA: You're free today, aren't you?  
MAKOTO: Well… yes.  
MAKOTO: But you wanted to go to that- that thing. At the mall.  


Much to Akechi's horror, Akira shrugged nonchalantly.  
AKIRA: You two should go instead. It'd be good for you.  
MAKOTO: Akira.  
AKECHI: And what if _I_ have plans?  
AKIRA: Do you?  
AKECHI: ...  
AKECHI: What is it you intended to do, if you don't mind my asking?  
MAKOTO: Uhm. Laser tag, I believe?  
AKIRA: Yep.  
AKECHI: I've never played.  
MAKOTO: Nor have I, to be honest.  


Akira took the girls' empty cup, using a rag to begin cleaning it.  
AKIRA: You're on a level playing field then, right?  
MAKOTO: Right… I. _Suppose_ it wouldn't hurt.  
Crossing his arms, Akechi fought a sigh. He'd played nice with people he disliked before. Besides, it was true that he had nothing to do, that day in particular. Maybe laser tag would be fun.  
Maybe. 

Makoto huffed, faltering for a moment and looking down with great focus. Seeing an opportunity, Akechi poked dangerously, trying to provoke whatever resentment she felt.  
AKECHI: What's the matter, Niijima-san?  
MAKOTO: Oh! Nothing, really. I'm just terrible with schedule changes.  
She exhaled, half-smile returning.  
MAKOTO: Well then! Shall we get going?  
MAKOTO: I can pay.  
AKECHI: Ah, right now?  
MAKOTO: If that's fine with you?  
AKECHI: Sure.  


And thus, they departed.  
AKIRA: You two have fun!  


After making sure the mall was open, they rode the subway in relative silence, managing to grab seats due to the lack of people about.  
MAKOTO: Akechi...  
AKECHI: Hm?  
MAKOTO: Welcome back.  
His head hurt.  


Laser Tag was situated on the ground floor, thankfully, a full wall of the department store dedicated to the dark-neon-themed game. There was a queue affront the entrance, filled out with a line of around four pre-teens and a few high-schoolers at the back. For a moment, Akechi thought it a little pathetic to be sixteen and spending your Saturday morning at Laser Tag, before promptly remembering he's a year older and doing the same thing.  
Whatever.  


A few people got in line behind them, but whatever game was occurring quickly finished and everyone was ushered forward, all except a few at the very back allowed to enter the dimly lit room. When they reached the doorway, Makoto paid as she said she would, hardly looking bothered at all.  
AKECHI: Are you quite sure you can afford that?  
MAKOTO: Ha. Aren't I poor, you mean?  
MAKOTO: My sister has been able to afford giving me a small allowance, after she busted your father. For doing all her cooking and cleaning. So it's fine.  
MAKOTO: Really, I feel bad spending it on just myself. I'm not used to just having extra cash.  
AKECHI: Oh. I see.  
They were beckoned onwards.  


Inside an attendant dressed in neon was standing, the blacklights making them light up despite their utterly dead expression. The younger people marveled at their glowing socks.  
Despite her clear attempts to remain unamused, Makoto chuckled a bit at the tacky decorations, Akechi still thinking the whole affair rather immature himself. Still, he remained attentive to the rules, not keen on getting banned from the mall due to a childrens' game. Ann might have his head.  
**ATTENDANT: -and most importantly, don't get into any fights in the arena. Like, physical fights that is. Please. If any police reports are filed, it's on my paycheck.**  
A few kids laughed. Noted.  
**ATTENDANT: The game ends when all opponents are eliminated or when your game time runs out. If everyone understands the rules, we can continue into the next room and you can choose a team.**

Everyone nodded and were allowed to progress, the proceeding room far brighter in order for everyone to select their team. Akechi squinted and stumbled a bit, leaning back for support and finding air where he thought there was a wall. Immediately, Makoto grabbed his sleeve to stop him from completely eating shit. He stared at her, momentarily bug-eyed, before muttering a thank you. She shrugged.  
**ATTENDANT: Careful, sir.  
** AKECHI: Sorry. Haven't been sleeping right.  
MAKOTO: I was getting drowsy in there myself. Just try not to fall. We wouldn't wanna have to go home on account of an injury, after all.  
Right, her sleeping issues. He wondered if she'd tried melatonin, then remembered he didn't care and subsequently stopped wondering.  
Maybe he should loan her his, anyways. He hardly ever used it.  
ATTENDANT: Now, you can tell which is which based on the color of the gun, there are fifteen of you and five guns per team, so go wild. And like I said, handle the equipment carefully.  
Thinking for a moment, he went with the red-orange colored team. It was a pleasant color. Makoto grabbed a matching gun and vest, the ridiculous panels clearly meant to light up your respective team color. 

Once everyones' selections were made, they were given yet another once over of the rules before being allowed into the arena proper. For a few seconds, they were standing in darkness.  
MAKOTO: Good luck, Goro.  
AKECHI: Likewise. I think.  
The blacklights kicked on, a heavy voice over the microphone informing them they were at war. With their few moments of invulnerability, everyone spread out, ducking into cover behind the strategically placed walls and trying not to be blinded by strobe lights.  
The obvious strategy was to stay hidden and let people pick each other off. Plus, the throes of pre-teens trying to have a good time would likely prefer their upperclassman _didn't_ destroy them.  
But Goro, never fond of anyone younger than him, didn't care about either fact. They'd get over it. Besides, what's the point of a game about elimination if you don't actually...eliminate.  
With that in mind, he peeked out from his hiding place and looked around. One of his teammates, a pony-tailed brunette with platform boots, was gunning down a member of the blue team, only to be ambushed herself. This in mind, he rushed forward and aimed for their vest before he was spotted, successfully taking the little boy out of the game. His teammate thanked him for avenging her, but he shrugged it off.  
Once the other teams were gone, she became the enemy anyways.  


Turns out some kids are, like, unreasonably good at Laser Tag, though. Akechi was very nearly shot by the same little weasel who kept running away when he tried to play defense, and a seemingly shy girl ended up being his archival due to her cloaking abilities.  
Still, they all fell before him, most of his teammates seeming to perform adequately as well. Though, he never really saw Makoto, maybe because she was avoiding him. Fair enough.  
Towards what had to be the end, the lights turned orange, another voice from the speakers announcing that only Akechi's team remained, and it was now a free-for-all.  


He began heading towards the center of the arena, wondering what it said about his character that this game was… oddly fun. It reminded him of aimless shadow hunting, in a way, one of his few fond memories from being a Persona user.  
As he'd suspected, several players were engaged at mid', and in their distraction he took the time to shoot both of them. Meandering about the aisles with well deserved confidence, he peeked around corners hoping to find stragglers.  
Meteorically, a kid burst from a then unchecked corner, weapon pointed directly at him. Akechi was caught off guard, to be sure, gawking as a familiar voice cheered them on.  
MAKOTO: Go on, you can do it!  
Their hands shook, but they fired.  
They also missed. Akechi rolled his eyes, easily hitting their vest.  
They gasped at the loud buzzer, immediately running off the opposite direction.  
MAKOTO: Akechi!  
She stepped into view, pulling him out of the game with her clearly cross expression.  
MAKOTO: Couldn't you have let them hit you?  
AKECHI: Is the point _not_ winning?  
MAKOTO: The point is to have fun, and help others do the same.  
She waved her firearm for emphasis, close enough now that any shot would be sure to hit. Before either could speak another word, however-  
**ANNOUNCER: TWO PLAYERS REMAINING. PLEASE HEAD TO MID. YOU HAVE THREE MINUTES REMAINING.  
  
ANNOUNCER: FINISH THIS!  
**

** **

** **

Shocked, Makoto staggered backwards at the sudden shouting. Akechi moved forward, but she flinched away and tripped over herself in the process.  
Staring up at him, they both went still. Akechi wondered if he should help her up, knowing full well this was the perfect opportunity to shoot her. But then again, was she even playing?  
The flashing fluorescence was making his head hurt.  


Their gaze unbroken, Makoto Niijima pointed her gun up at Goro Akechi and pulled the trigger.  
The lights came on.  
**ANNOUNCER: EVERYONE PLEASE EXIT THE ARENA IN AN ORDERLY FASHION.**  
Reaching for his hand, Makoto was pulled to her feet.  
MAKOTO: Good game.  
AKECHI: Uh-huh.  
At his intelligent response, she pivoted and left.  
As instructed, everyone filed through the door, leaving their equipment where instructed by the employee waiting for them. 

********

********

One of the children victimized by his rampage stuck out her tongue on the way out, Akechi gesturing with his finger in response. Satisfied, the little girl and her friends scurried off, and Makoto sat down on the edge of a bench in the malls corridor.  
Well.  
Akechi sat down beside her, wondering how much her opinion of him had deteriorated. He was a competitive person, and the Metaverse had always been how he vented his anger; Laser Tag, it seemed, was not a socially acceptable substitution when it involved ruining kids' days. 

MAKOTO: What are we doing…?  
Her face had, for the first time, relaxed into an apathetic frown, staring ahead at people as they passed.  
He quirked his head.  
AKECHI: Sitting on a bench.  
MAKOTO: No, as in...  
MAKOTO: You don't like me. I've never been entirely unsuspicious of you. But here we are, hanging out as if everything's been resolved, and why? For what? It gets us nowhere.  
He blinked, and took a moment to ponder her words in earnest. So she _had been_ faking her pleasantries, as he suspected. There was no denying that the girl had a point.  
What _were_ they doing? 

AKECHI: Hm.   
AKECHI: Akira. As in, his concern for my social life motivates him to set me up with his friends.  
She chuckled softly.  
MAKOTO: Akira is pretty great, isn't he?  
AKECHI: I suppose. Annoying, but he seems to think he knows best about these things.  
MAKOTO: Maybe he does. I've always been jealous of him, in that regard.  
A darkness crossed her face, Akechis' brows raising in slight interest at her words.  
MAKOTO: You know, in regards to relationships. I'm not a particularly likeable person, as you can attest.   
AKECHI: _You're_ unlikeable?  
AKECHI: You know how I am, you _saw_ how I am, and you're right not to trust me. Frankly, I don't know why Akira _does_.  
MAKOTO: Akechi, it's _Laser Tag_. I was annoyed, but no one's getting crucified for being a dick during trashy neon bloodsports.  
MAKOTO: And regardless, _I_ do. Know why, that is.  
MAKOTO: Or, at least I think so.  
AKECHI: Eh?  


Her smile, her genuine smile when directed at him was so overwhelming that he had to look away. It was soft and personal, the warmth behind it subtle but suffocating at the same time.  
Akechi had never seen her face that way before, and something about it… didn't irk him as much.  
MAKOTO: I think he believes that you're a good person who wants to be loved, Goro.  
MAKOTO: And lately I'm starting to sense that he might be right.  
His fists clenched.  
AKECHI: How can you _say that_? After everything I did, are you some kind of masochist?  


Makoto shook her head, resting a hand on the boys' shoulder. He shrugged her away on impulse, but her hand drifted down to rest atop his own instead, carefully grasping the fabric of his gloves. It was a careful gesture, yet still so surprising that Akechi jerked to look at her. There was a vacancy in her eyes, trained down on the floor.  
MAKOTO: Not at all.  
MAKOTO: When I was still a puppet for Kobayakawa, I truly felt like I was in too deep to be anything else.  
MAKOTO: How else would I earn my sisters love? No one else would even tolerate me, if I left, so I kept being that terrible person. That might have remained true, if not for the Phantom Thieves.  
MAKOTO: I am disgusted with the horrors in which I was complicit, and I can never forgive myself for them.  
MAKOTO: But I have to believe that I've earned the right to be happy, after everything. Being distant and lonely is a painful life, as is burying myself in guilt. And if I deserve a second chance at things, then I'd be hypocritical not to forgive and forget for you, too. We're only children, after all.  


AKECHI: I-  
He yanked his hand away, releasing the air that was trapped in his lungs with a sharp sigh.  
AKECHI: -resent the fact that I understand you.  
Makoto looked shocked, before giggling in response.  
MAKOTO: Likewise, I think?  


He waved at her dismissively.  
AKECHI: Besides, Akira doesn't _love_ me, per sé, sentimental as he his.  
MAKOTO: Sure he does. Why wouldn't he?  
AKECHI: Hm.  
AKECHI: I suppose I wouldn't know.   
AKECHI: I've never been… you know.  
Makoto yawned. She leaned to the side, head lay against his shoulder.  
~~_Move her, make her move, get her away we can't do this, this is dangerous you're not capable you don't deserve it this is annoying you hate this quit it, idiot, what's wrong with yo-_~~  
MAKOTO: Yeah.  
MAKOTO: I know.  
He didn't move away.  
Her eyes drifting closed, Akechi looked to those around them, the strangers meandering about and enjoying their lives.  
His chest hurt.  
AKECHI:  Yeah.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd better not see any Makoto hate in these comments. Homegirl is still working through some shit, and it's my firm belief that she DOESN'T become a cop after all. Anyways fake bitch bonding.  
>  **Please leave comments if you enjoyed, or have any thoughts on things thus far!**


	6. Death Denied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justice, reparations, and what "moving on" really means. Haru Okumura is a good gardening instructor.

It was Friday afternoon. Recent rainfall left the world sluggish, overcast skies still clouding the city.  
Goro Akechi was sitting on the couch with his PC in his lap, making a valiant effort to finish typing an essay when his mind was so prone to wandering. Online schooling suited him best, but he did wonder if conventional education would lead to less distractions.  
Probably not, considering the state of his public image, but still. 

Distractions, distractions. He sighed.  
Once upon a time, he didn't even think about the long term. In his mind there _was_ no long term, even on his birthday thinking he'd drop dead seconds before properly turning eighteen and fretting terribly as a result. But he didn't, and survived twice more near-death experiences at that, the horror of his former occupation leaving him to quietly resume school as if nothing happened.  
Many children like himself never got the opportunity for third-year education, and maybe that should've made him thankful, but Akechi could only feel bitter.  
What did he have to be thankful for? His sperm-donors pity-money? Yeah, right.  


His thoughts continued to splinter away from writing as dusk settled in.  
Collecting himself, Akechi resumed typing with renewed determination, this time _refusing_ to let his mind get away from him.  
He made it a good hundred words before there was a knock on his door.  
The student audibly groaned. Lethargically weighed down, he stood and prepared to face his landlady; she was his least favorite visitor, despite also being his only one. 

Cracking open the door, however, led to him stopping short, mumbled greetings caught in his throat at the sight of none other than Haru Okumura.  
He gawked, petite stature doing little to affect intimidation when she was staring at him with such intensity.  
Akechi had never so desperately wanted to see his landlady before.  
AKECHI: Hello there?  
HARU: U-uhm,  
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly looking away.  
HARU: Can I come in?  


The whole thing was unexpected, so much so that he found himself stepping aside for her entry without another word. Really, he just wanted to know _why_ she was here. What would prompt her, one of the people with most reason to despise him, to visit spontaneously?  
Immediately his eyes flickered down to her hands. If she got violent, he could take her. Probably.  
But what would Akira think? Hell, what would he _do_? Ugh. 

HARU: Ah, don't worry-  
As if reading his mind, she raised her arms in mock-surrender.  
HARU: -I come in peace!   
He regarded her with suspicion, still, but allowed himself to stop bracing for an impact.  
AKECHI: ... _Okay_. But why?  
AKECHI: Is something going on?  
HARU: Oh, no!  
HARU: It's just, well, my friends have been saying that you've spoken with them.  
HARU: Mako-chan, too! And I didn't think you two were very fond of one another.  
Haru began fiddling with her sleeves, picking apart fabric with methodical focus.  
AKECHI: Eh?  
HARU: So, I want to hang out with you too, if that's okay?  
He blinked, sudden words taking him by surprise.  
AKECHI: I mean- I _was_ doing schoolwork.  
HARU: O-oh, I'm sorry, I can go!  
He glanced at the door behind her, then rubbed his temples.  
AKECHI: Was there something you had in mind?  
HARU: Well-  
HARU: Maybe something calm, like gardening? If that isn't too boring.  
Well, shit. What choice did he have?  
How is one even meant to say no?  
Hey, I'm aware I murdered the only immediate family you have left, however, no, I won't go garden with you. How would that make him look?  
Even Akechi knew this wasn't generally how things went, showing up unannounced and asking to garden of all things, but, well… He sighed.  
AKECHI: Alright then.   


Her eyes went wide in what looked like bewilderment, but she quickly recovered with a modest trill.  
HARU: Okay! I'm glad.  
He slipped on his shoes and tied his hair back with the band around his wrist, nodding along as she then guided him downstairs to his buildings exit.  
There was a car at the curb, old and beige-colored, but seemingly in good condition. Haru motioned to the vehicle, bowing as she opened the passenger door for Akechi.  
Holding his breath, he passed the threshold. She appeared to study him for a moment, before entering the car herself. 

It was astonishing what a skilled driver she proved to be, and after a few minutes of nothing but the radio talking Akechi elected to point it out.  
Haru hummed appreciatively, the friction in the air lessening slightly.  
HARU: I wanted to learn how to get around by myself as well as I could. I guess it just felt wrong to still be driven everywhere when I was able to do it myself! Plus, I think it's kinda fun.  
She glanced at him, motioning towards the windshield.  
HARU: There's a certain freedom to it, you know?  


It was something to consider, but he'd never actually thought about getting a vehicle of his own.  
AKECHI: I never saw the appeal myself.  
AKECHI: Though, that might be because I'd never been able to _use_ a license, anyways. At least considering my past situation.  
He stared out the window, a bitter taste on his tongue from thinking about the past in detail.  
HARU: You must have felt really trapped, huh?  
She sounded empathetic, voice quieter than before. Akechi just gave a nod, watching the scenery change slowly around them. It had been grey all day, but the clouds had begun to dissipate in time with nights' arrival. In this part of the city, a bit of the moon was barely visible above. He occupied himself with trying to find its face. 

The car slowed to a stop affront a tall, windowed building Akechi only half-remembered having seen before.  
HARU: Well, here we are!  
It was built like an apartment building, with an addition in the form of a fenced area to its side. Haru hopped out the car without another word and rushed to the fence in question, anticipation written on her face.  
Interested, he jogged to meet her, relieved the ride was over as he was tense to see what came next.  
AKECHI: So… you've set up shop here?  
It was a harmless observation, a structure like this not exactly where he'd expect to see a garden.  
She unlatched a gate, street-lamps illuminating the area.  
HARU: Ah, I wouldn't really call it setting up shop. It's more like volunteer work. This place, it's a nursing home, and they were sending us letters about their garden.  
HARU: Sending _me_ letters, that is.  
There was an air of embarrassment about her as she led him towards a tilled plot of land, though he couldn't fathom why.  
HARU: Mom apparently used to tend it, hah.  


Akechi felt like he was supposed to say something, but she didn't look particularly upset, taking a bag off her shoulder and rustling through it as if nothing was amiss.  
Her voice was pleasant, but for a split second she had this look, drawn up and bitter. _It_ wasn't pleasant.  
Then she said:  
HARU: Anyways! I figured it'd be sad to let it go into disrepair, just because they've been recently understaffed. Lot of people are moving on to greener pastures, lately.  
HARU: But not me! I'm just the same old Haru, huh?  
Haru flashed a winning smile as she tossed him a spade, which he flinched and caught on reflex alone.  
This wasn't so bad, sort of. All things considered, it could be a lot worse, especially considering her perceived lack of anger.  
(Perceived, of course, being the key-word.)

She told him what to do and he made rows in the Earth where directed, occasionally stopping to mark a certain area based on what was to be planted there.  
The process was mostly one of silence, the barely-cool air nothing but stuffy and tense, for Akechi. He didn't even want to fathom what the humidity was doing to his hair.  


As for Haru, she looked completely in her element, as if the small shovel were an extension of the girl herself. When she tugged up a weed or dusted soil over a seed, there was something close to tenderness in her touch, to the point that Akechi couldn't help staring.  
He'd finished with the instructions given yet refused to interrupt her, mostly because he was fascinated with the near-automated focus she displayed.  
This went on for some time, until eventually Haru seemed to catch a glimpse of him looming out the corner of her eye. She twitched away in response, yelping as her balance was lost and she landed in the dirt below.  
She was uncomfortable with him, Akechi realized, not altogether objectively. It had been in the back of his mind for a while, why she seemed so intent on this passive facade, and it wasn't exactly _surprising_ that fear was the motivator.  
Maybe _disappointing_ , considering he'd at least tried to be “polite,” but that wasn't his problem. Haru had invited him, not vise-versa; if she had a problem, she could sort it out. 

“ _You did kill her father..._ ” A small voice piped up to remind him, but he told his mind to shut the fuck up as he bent down to offer Haru a hand.  
She took it, albeit hesitantly, smile fully regained by the time she was on her feet.  
HARU: Sorry about that- I get so into what I'm doing that I forget myself, sometimes.  
Akechi shrugged, remaining silent. She cleared her throat.  
HARU: There's a cooler-  
She pointed over his shoulder to an enclosed are near the wall, which he then turned to examine,  
HARU: -on the table, there, that the nurse I spoke to said would have drinks for us.  
HARU: If, uhm, you're thirsty that is!  
Sure enough, a teal-colored icebox was sitting on the wooden picnic table, protected from all rainfall by the half-enclosed space.  
He twisted his jaw, responding first with a nod before thinking that a bit too noncommittal.  
AKECHI: Yes, that'd be nice.  
She clasped her hands together.  
HARU: Wonderful!  


They headed for the resting spot, Haru immediately cracking the container and retrieving two bottles of Udagawa Water™ for them.  
She handed him one of the bottles, staring at her own as he struggled to break the seal.  
AKECHI: Erhm, I-  
Snapping out of whatever daze she was in, the strong girl regarded his plight with laughter. Good natured laughter, it seemed, but he still couldn't help shrinking away.  
HARU: Oh, here, let me.  
After a moment, she twisted the cap off, giving it back with great care so as not to spill any water. He couldn't help feeling a bit embarrassed- she looked so tiny, too.  
Then again, most of her _was_ hidden under a sweater. 

She went right back to giving him the silent treatment, leaving Akechi yet again trying to decipher her intentions.  
HARU: How've you been, Goro-chan? What have you been up to?  
She spoke at last, catching him off-guard in the process.  
AKECHI: Well. Nothing in particular, really.  
AKECHI: I feel recently a lot has changed, but not necessarily for the worse. School is- well- my future a whole is uncertain for now.  
HARU: Hah, I certainly understand that.  
HARU: I have wants and dreams, sure, but-  
Haru looked a little sad. Akechi frowned.  
HARU: Nothing is set in stone.  


AKECHI: ... How've _you_ been, then?  
HARU: Oh, well,  
She laughed lightly, clearly fighting not to grit her teeth.  
HARU: I miss the metaverse. Miss my father. Some niavé part of me thought that we could just do that forever, you know? Be The Phantom Thieves.  
HARU: It gave me purpose. An outlet. I'd hoped that maybe I could save him, too, that it wasn't too late...  


Her voice tapered off, but Akechi continued to listen with the blunt hope that she'd be the one to bring up their past. What he'd done.  
He didn't really feel bad about Mr. Okumuras' death; the man was wicked and corrupt, after all. But Haru had the right to be disturbed by his passing.  
Akechi thought, not for the first time, about all the what ifs. What if Shido had died? Is that what he wanted?  
He struggled to understand Haru, who herself sat blissfully unaware of this plight.  
AKECHI: I...  
She looked at him, still unwaveringly attentive.  
HARU: Hm? What is it?  
Akechi tried to maintain her gaze but couldn't, big prying eyes more overwhelming than anticipated.  
It was shameful, to be unable to do something so simple, but it seemed forcing himself was out of the question. It would have to be genuine, or not at all. He wouldn't want an apology from anyone who didn't truly mean it.  
She still managed to sound casual, too. He wondered if there really was a trick to that, appearing friendly despite deep unrest. He also wondered why so many of Akiras' friends, himself included, were so good at it.  


AKECHI: Your father.  
HARU: Yes?  
AKECHI: What I did to him. I regret, er, I don't-  
He huffed.  
AKECHI: I'm _sorry_.   
There was an immediate attempt to respond, followed by Haru cutting herself off to examine him. Careful, quiet. He stood still, tense.  
HARU: I know.  
HARU: I can tell that you're sorry. I'd have to be a monster, to blame you for my grief.  


Haru looked away from him, face fallen, eyes suddenly glued to the ground as she gripped her spade. Her knuckles went white; her calloused hands shook. Her water bottle sat on the table, untouched.  
HARU: It's as though I'm not mourning him. I suppose I never did. It was just...  
HARU: The hope? The expectation?  
HARU: The man you killed wasn't my father.  
He reached out to her but cringed away, unable to force his hand into making contact. If she noticed, she didn't seem to care.  
HARU: He didn't see me as a daughter, but an object. A thing to be moved around and tortured so long as it- as he-  
Haru Okumura crumpled slightly, clearly to the point of fighting tears. There was something in her voice, dense and brittle, that made Akechi feel heavy. What to do? His mind reeled.  
HARU: It just doesn't seem fair? I fought so hard, just to see him apologise. I wanted it so badly, like I've never wanted anything, for his empire to crumple. To see him lose everything, like he took everything from me.  
AKECHI: I under-  
HARU: No! You _don't_ understand! We were so close to being a family, once, and he ruined it. It was all his fault, and I had nowhere to go. I was just stuck there, stagnant, moved around at his will, hoping that maybe he'd want me like I wanted him.  
His heart raced, vision clouded by memories. How could he fix it? Give back what was taken?  


AKECHI: What should I do?  
HARU: I don't know!  
HARU: I don't even know why I called you here, really.  
HARU: It's not like I needed an apology, blaming you is hardly fair.  
AKECHI: But-  
She threw her hands in the air, walking towards him with an increasingly annoyed expression.  
HARU: It doesn't change anything! Your apologies, the hesitance, it's _too late_.  
Something entered her eyes, something viscous and dark.  
HARU: I was just a little girl!  
The tension in her shoulders had grown knot-tight.  
HARU: _His_ little girl, but he ruined me! He ruined me and I can never have closure, and it's all-  
She was shouting, face alive with fury, he panted, things were moving too fast-  
HARU: _YOUR_  
The spade was lightning quick, her knuckles white with rage. Akechi grimaced, arms shielding his chest as she jabbed desperately at him.  
HARU: F..f..  
Haru stuttered, breathing labored, running out of steam as her eyes widened in realization.  
HARU: I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I wasn't...  
Quiet sobs shook her body, which seemed so much smaller when she wasn't trying to kill him. A spade was a bad murder weapon, anyways, the stabs barely able to break skin. Even if her intent was lethal, for a moment.  
These things happened. 

Akechi opened his arms to let her go but she leaned into them instead, and he felt for the first time like some weakness was worth protecting, even if he wasn't cognisant of the realization.  
Though his impulse was to force her into standing on her own, something stopped him. Maybe the vulnerability. Maybe the feeling of tears soaking into his shirt, the strange want to fix it despite not knowing how. Maybe the knowledge of how much faith she'd been forced to have in him, how much trust.  
AKECHI: It's not worth crying over.  
HARU: But it's- I _hurt_ you, or I tried! Just because I didn't get what I want!  
HARU: I'm just like him, a monster, I don't know how else to be, I'm so angry that I...   
She cried. She _heaved_ , really, soft weeping becoming something more violent. It was not a pretty cry, or maybe it was and the nagging guilt of seeing her like this was just getting to him.  
Either way, he couldn't just walk off, could he? Not when it was so… uncomfortable, seeing her like this.  
AKECHI: You're fine, though. I'm not bothered, or even hurt, really. If anything, I'm glad. I do owe you, after all.  
AKECHI: It would be a shame if my newest friend was too soft to even try taking revenge.  


She laughed, a little shakily, pulling away to look up at him. There was something softer in her face.  
Oh.  
HARU: ...Friend?  
Akechi flushed.  
AKECHI: Well, not _willingly_ , but-  
AKECHI: I'm here, so.  


Then she hugged him again, less _in_ his arms and more actively embracing. He was held tight as she could manage, and the girl was stronger than she looked. Still, no effort was made to shove her away.  
HARU: Yes. You're here.  
A pause, then, but not an awkward one. Just a hiccup. A comfortable, considering silence between them.  
HARU: I accept your apology, Goro-chan.  
Her voice was raw, refusing to let go even as her grip lessened.  
AKECHI: Uh. Likewise, Haru.  


She tugged away from him completely, peeling off her dirt-covered gloves as she spoke.  
(Akechi realized his own were soiled, but obviously didn't bother taking them off. Doing so right now would almost certainly result in the need to scrub away gunpowder, it's there, you monster, you murderer, you-)  
HARU: Let's go somewhere else, Crow.  
He tilted his head, not bothering to ask about the garden in his attempt to keep up with her when she took off so suddenly. They were on the sidewalk again, but instead of entering her car after the gate was latched, Haru pivoted left determinedly.  
AKECHI: Am I being kidnapped?  
She turned backwards for a moment, reassuring him as she walked.  
HARU: Of course not! Only borrowed for a bit.  
He smirked.  
AKECHI: Alright then, lead the way.  


They walked side-by-side, the machinations of late-night Shibuya acting as ambience for their stroll.  
Akechi was somewhat paranoid, sure, but mostly his thoughts remained on the girl leading him about. The whole outing was just unprecedented, and although they were apparently walking elsewhere, he had the feeling it wasn't about to get any more normal.  
Still, despite the murder attempt, the current vibe between them was… comfortable, at least. Resolution, or something approximating it, had been reached, and that knowledge was almost comforting to Akechi.  


HARU: Goro-chan...  
He noticed a lack of shaking in her voice. If that meant she was less scared, well… Akechi was glad, despite himself.  
AKECHI: Hm?  
HARU: Can I ask you a personal question?  
AKECHI: You can _ask_ , yes.  
She hesitated.  
HARU: Do you remember much about, uhm, your mother?  
His face did something funny, Haru immediately starting on an apology that he refused to let her finish.  
AKECHI: I just don't talk about it often.  
HARU: Well, I imagine!  
AKECHI: I mean, it isn't necessarily because I don't want to or I can't. It's simply more a matter of it rarely coming up.  
AKECHI: But, as for if I remember much about her- I think so, yes.  
AKECHI: It's been a long time, but I still know bits and pieces of her face. I could point her out in a photo. We have the same hair.  
AKECHI: But, things like her voice and her laughter have faded. Of course I wish I could remember more, but such things are impossible.  
AKECHI: Why do you ask?  
HARU: Oh, no reason, really.  
HARU: Akira told us a bit more about you, when we thought you'd died, and well… I guess I was just curious.  
They turned a corner. Haru wiped snot from her face, trying to hide a sniffle, but he caught it and exhaled through his nose amusedly.  
She must be pretty exhausted. 

AKECHI: Can I ask you something too, then?  
She practically twinkled at him.  
HARU: Anything.  
AKECHI: What about your other parent? Surely you weren't adopted?  
HARU: Well-  
HARU: Hm. It's a bit complicated.  
HARU: I was really young, when everything happened, too, but.  
HARU: My mother found out she was pregnant with me and rushed into a marriage with my father, who desperately wanted a daughter. In return for “taking her in,” because she was a sickly person, my mom essentially gave him full control of me, signing away her rights.  
HARU: So when she found out that he wanted a kid to use for. Uhm.  
HARU: _Political advantage_ , she was unhappy. I don't know if she left him, or if he made her leave, but. Yeah.  
AKECHI: Oh .shit.  
HARU: Yes. I was only really able to get the full story after his death, though.  
HARU: Never having heard from her made me believe him about her leaving us, but in hindsight she is, perhaps, dead.  
He didn't really know what to say, even remotely.  


Luckily, it wasn't a problem, Haru suddenly rushing forward to dip towards their destination- apparently, a graveyard.  
It was one long road with several paths to the side, with her making a b-line for one at the back and Akechi attempting to keep up.  
AKECHI: Is this where he's-?  
HARU: Yep!  
Turning right, she motioned towards a grave, exquisite and marble. Sure enough, the name of her father was engraved there.  
_Kunikazu Okumura_. Eugh.  


Haru stared at the monument, face unreadable if not serene.  
AKECHI: Why are we here, again?  
HARU: Oh, right!  
She righted herself, tone one of excitement. This was a complete 180° from the tears and shouting, but Goro Akechi wasn't about to complain.  
Turning to face the headstone, Haru appeared to mentally prepare before- rather crudely- spitting on the grass where his body was buried.  
She laughed, almost giddy, then began kicking at the marble, twisting her heels in the soil, anything and everything to defile her fathers' resting place.  


Akechi laughed, prompting her heated eyes to flit his direction.  
HARU: Go on!  
AKECHI: Pfft- hah, _what_?  
She stopped for a moment, gasping for breath, arms thrown apart to motion at the surrounding area.  
HARU: You hate your dad too, right?  
HARU: Well, imagine he's buried here, then. I don't care! Just have fun!  
AKECHI: I- okay, then?  


He rolled his eyes at first, watching her continue to pull up grass in anger. But the more he thought about it… the more it felt like a good idea?  
Akechis' only experience with graveyard visits had been with his mother, the time spent there reverent or mournful. He'd never...well… what _if_ Shido were buried here? What _would_ he do?  
Hesitant at first, he ground his shoe into the dirt, toying with how it felt. When no guilt arose, he snickered and did it again.  
And again.  


Soon the monument was being assaulted by his fists, Harus' encouraging claps only egging him on even as his knuckles began bruising.  
HARU: Yes! Yes!  
AKECHI: Fuck you!!  
Haru gasped, then giggled. She kicked the grave again, rubbing dirt from her shoe across the polished stone.  
HARU: Yeah!  
HARU: We-we needed you!  
AKECHI: Why didn't you take care of us?   
HARU: Bastard!  


They looked at each other for a moment, dead silent, before erupting again in laughter, working that much harder to vandalize the grave.  
AKECHI: I hate you!  
HARU: Monster!  
AKECHI: You killed me!  
HARU: _Groomed_ me!  


Unable to speak, Akechi shouted, hitting the tomb with all the force he could muster. Haru responded with a congratulatory yay, voice moving to concern when he fell back into the grass and stared up at the sky.  
Tentatively, she lay down beside him, each taking a moment to catch their breath.  
HARU: I'm really sorry you had to see me like that. Again.  
HARU: I'm not usually not so volatile.  
AKECHI: Tch, don't disappoint me.  
HARU: Hah...  


The two of them fell silent, glancing at the stars and occasionally each-other.  
The brevity of their lives hit Goro, for a moment. There was something beautiful to being so small, staring up at the stars and realizing to them, he must be a dot, too. Realizing that while he'd been dead, the world had been turning.  
The anger drained from him, the very will to be angry, replaced with a sense of yūgen.  
He breathed greedily, like at any moment the air could be pulled from his lungs. Maybe he was tired, maybe he realized something, but it was hard to say considering he couldn't tell the difference between friendship and attempted murder.  
Fair is fair. Maybe there really was none. 

HARU: Hey, uhm,  
She turned to face him.  
AKECHI: Mmh?  
HARU: We should probably move.  
AKECHI: Why?  
HARU: I… don't remember where I spit.  
He tittered, sitting up despite the sudden waves of fatigue. Well, now they were _both_ exhausted. Great.  


Standing to leave, they walked back towards the entrance, Akechis' sincere hope that no one called the police suddenly brought to the forefront.  
HARU: Did you really mean what you said?  
AKECHI: Huh?  
HARU: That- you want to be friends with me, even though you know I'm...  
AKECHI: Whatever.  


Her breath hitched. Akechi glanced around, but was unable to look anywhere but Haru.  
AKECHI: I mean, _yes_.  
AKECHI: Friends it is.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Very proud of this one. **Please comment if you enjoyed!** and happy Valentine's day, for those who celebrate it!


	7. The Child's Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 2nd. His birthday.  
> Despite intending to spend it alone, Akechi ends up reaching out- and, in return, gets a gift greater than he can imagine. On life, death, and the art of forgiveness.

It felt exceedingly strange to think that it had only been mere months since everything happened with Maruki, but as May came and went and his birthday approached, Goro Akechi was reminded of how much his life had changed.  
He was also reminded of his previous birthday, a terrible one to be sure, the “party” consisting of fans flanking him and intrusive thoughts insisting that he'll die any moment. 

He knew it was unreasonable, but the idea of living long enough to finish highschool had horrified him, even if he wasn't yet legally an adult. It was a step across the border.  
Even still, he'd lived alone for quite some time by then, so being close to adulthood didn't feel much different than before. All that changed was _how close_ , just how much he was meant to measure. He hadn't even graduated yet, either. 

What a joke. 

Akechi had no intentions of celebrating turning eighteen. He was still a child, still living alone, still uncertain of himself though he now had the guts to admit it.  
It had been a very long time since there was a party in his favor, and he saw no reason to change that, even if _in theory_ he knew enough people to invite. There just wasn't any point.  
Besides, there was nothing he wanted. 

Goro Akechis' eyes flickered open the morning of June 2nd with this in mind. It was his birthday, another seed of exhaustion planted firmly beneath his soil.  
Rolling over and hopping out of bed, he stumbled into his kitchen whilst stifling a yawn. None of his bowls were clean, so he opted to eat cereal out the box, powering on his cellphone and shoveling cheerios in his mouth to dull the nauseous pain in his stomach. Through the jumbled diegesis of Twitter, he came to find out that people had, in fact, remembered his birthday. They'd remembered _him_ , or at least “The Detective Prince.” 

He sat down on the couch in a placid state of mind, knowing distantly that he had schoolwork to do but figuring that this was his special day and all. Fuck it.  
An unread message caught his eye, and he opened his inbox in the same lazy fashion. He jolted to attention upon scanning the screen.

joker

hey birthday boy we still hanging out or? 

ik you said you dont wanna celebrate but you shouldnt just spend all day alone in your stinky room (^･ัω･ั^) 

alright im coming up there tmrw🗡️ be ready bitch 

AKECHI: Goddammit.  
A grunt escaped him.  
Who says that shit without even giving a time? They'd spoken about meeting up today, considering Akechis' situation, but nothing concrete was discussed. He went to bed early once and missed everything, apparently. 

Forcing his old, weathered body to stand once more, Akechi returned to his bedroom and the bathroom adjacent. It would be unacceptable for Akira to turn up with him looking like a trainwreck, vain of a thought as it was. He cringed at the memory of Haru dragging him around all disheveled and unprepared.  
He didn't care nearly as much about his appearance anymore, but spending so much time in the public eye ingrained a fear of being unpresentable. Especially around _certain_ people, not that he'd ever admit that to Akira. 

After deeming himself good enough to be seen, pants on and hair at least combed through, Akechi took to hovering near his door like an asshole. There was no guarantee that the guy was even up this early, so why was he so anxious for his arrival?  
Immediately his mind supplied him with the answer that, scarce as he'd be to confess it, spending time with Akira was preferable to spending the day by himself. Try as he might to pretend otherwise, it wasn't exactly _fun_ to lay around in squalor. 

Deep in thought, he willingly lost track of time, tapping away at his phone in an absent-minded attempt to read the news. It wasn't until he'd entirely forgotten the texts that there was a knock at his door, producing yet another flinch of surprise that Akechi found he was quite prone to, lately.  
SOME DICKHEAD: Hellooo? Akechi? You awake?  


Quickly twisting his lock, he threw open the door and immediately punched Akira in the shoulder. The boy's expectant smile morphed into a playful one, though he feigned anger.  
AKIRA: Oof- you bitch!  
He bonked him on the head in return, though neither blow from either boy was particularly harsh.  
AKECHI: Thanks for telling me when you'd get here.  
AKIRA: Hah, sorry to keep you waiting.  
Akira bowed theatrically.  
AKIRA: May I come in?  
AKECHI: Tch.  
Stepping aside, Akechi fought the urge to chuckle.  
AKECHI: Whatever.  


Inside, Akira spread his arms and collapsed on the couch, giving Akechi a cheeky smile as he sat down himself.  
AKIRA: Your place looks pretty different.  
AKECHI: Yes, well, I'm in it quite a lot more lately.  
Akira laughed at his bitterness, though a little dryly.  
AKIRA: Fair. But how you been? You look a little rough, health-wise.  
AKECHI: Thanks. Really, though, I'm fine.  
He punctuated the statement with a shrug.  
AKECHI: Mainly I've just been _weird_ , antsy. I've had quite a lot on my mind lately, though I'm sure you've already heard.  
AKIRA: Hm?...  
AKECHI: About Haru? Your gardener friend.  
Adjusting his glasses, Akiras' playful expression became one of slight concern.  
AKIRA: No, what about her?  


That was certainly surprising. Didn't everyone in their little clique keep each other updated? Akechi brushed it off, going on to explain the gist of her visit at the tail end of May. Akira listened, attentive, a look of surprise betraying his unaffected demeanor.  
AKIRA: Huh.  
AKIRA: Haru was always had a violent streak, but I hadn't thought-  
AKECHI: That doesn't matter. I didn't hold it against her, so there's no reason for you to.  
AKIRA: Oh, don't worry. But I get it.  
AKIRA: I'm proud of you for apologising, too. I honestly wasn't sure if you'd ever reconnect with Haru or Futaba or anything, “grand plan” aside.  
The name Futaba provoked a reaction from him, though Akechi himself couldn't pinpoint why. His stomach churned.  
Futaba- the Sakura girl, and the daughter of his first victim. Though they only spoke properly once he joined the Phantom Thieves, Futaba herself didn't remember their first meeting. She was there, in the palace, or a cognitive version of herself. A little ginger girl trapped behind glass and crying out for her mommy. 

The memory of that place, of shaking hands too small for the gun they wielded, Akechis' eyes went glassy. An old guilt prickled his chest. 

Akira touched his arm, gently, clearly trying to gauge the ensuing reaction. Akechi relaxed slightly, determination renewed.  
AKIRA: Goro...  
AKECHI: There _is_ something I want for my birthday, Kurusu.  
AKIRA: Huh?  
AKECHI: Futaba.  
AKECHI: I want to talk to her.  
AKIRA: You-  
AKIRA: ...alright. Okay.  
Putting distance between them, Akira pulled out his phone, standing up moments later.  


AKIRA: You sure?  
He hesitated, and Akechi found himself doing the same. It was something he'd given a lot of thought, the people hurt by his quest for “justice.” The realization that he was alive occupied his mind, and that meant living with the things he'd done. And it made him feel a little better about everything, his conversation with Haru. So...  
AKECHI: I am.  
As soon as he spoke, Akechi realized he made his choice when Akira mentioned her in the first place. 

He helped him stand to leave, and together the two of them departed for the train, conversing as they did.  
The subway smelled, familiarly, like grease and _people_. It'd been a little while since he went anywhere that constituted catching a ride, though he still remembered the etiquette well.  
They mingled about, waiting.  
AKIRA: Hey, so.  
AKECHI: Eh?  
AKIRA: Futaba has a little trouble with, uh, people. And strangers. I mean, she knows you, obviously, but I don't know how she'll react to seeing you again, and talking about…   
AKIRA: Well, you know.  
AKECHI: Yes. I know.  
Silence. Standing side by side, Akechi allowed himself to admit the ridiculousness of this situation. If she wanted to hurt him for what he did to her mother… his fists clenched. It would be deserved- acknowledging that means letting whatever happens happen.  


AKIRA: Akechi, I-  
The exchange was interrupted by wheels screeching to a stop nearby, doors opening as dense hordes of people came and went. It must be close to lunchtime.  
AKECHI: Let's go, maybe we can grab seats if we hurry.  
They made haste, but were unable to sit down after all, the two of them huddled together in an attempt to hold a pole. It was necessary, but (admittedly) slightly embarrassing.  
There was a voice over the intercom, and the vehicle rumbled to life. 

Careful not to think too deeply about railway accidents, Akechi nudged Akira with his arm. Less to make him move and more to ask a question, but the boy just murmured an apology and stepped aside.  
AKECHI: No, what were you _saying_?  
AKIRA: Oh.   
AKIRA: I'm just, y'know- good job. For this. It might help a lot, and I really care about Futaba. We're basically family, especially after Sojiro let me stay, so yeah. Thank you.  
AKECHI: This isn't _for you_.  
He exhaled through his nose.  
AKECHI: But, you're welcome.  
Akira smiled, a gesture Akechi returned with a huff.  
AKECHI: Don't. Make this a big thing.  
AKIRA: I'm not! I'm not.  
They spent the rest of their trip in silence. Technically, it was probably minutes, but Akechi was nervous given their destination. Antsy. What a strange thing to think. 

The train stopped again and the skittery voice spoke, Akira tugging on his jacket and signaling for them to go. A few others left, but it was otherwise not a task to get out. Thank God; Akechi didn't appreciate brushing shoulders with strangers.  
They climbed the stairs and emerged at the surface, walking with Akira in front and making idle commentary about the neighborhood. Akechi listened and nodded, but couldn't help thinking tensely of what was to come.  
Smart? Not really- overthinking it and making himself anxious would help no one. But he excused himself for the day. 

His resident tour guide pointed, gaze finding one house of many.  
AKIRA: There.  
It was two stories, near Leblanc, no different than he remembered from when he staked out the address.  
In and out, Goro took a breath. He was a murderer. That can't be denied. Countless people were dead on his behalf, or orphaned-  
It's just that usually he didn't have to look them, or their daughters, in the eye.  
AKECHI: This is- what about your guardian?  
AKIRA: He's not home right now. But it's not like he wouldn't want you coming around.  
AKECHI: Yeah. Right.   


Passing the brick fence, Akira opened the door and called into the space beyond it. He was met with silence, and so they progressed forwards through the cluttered little home. Akechi looked around, noting the off-white walls and hardwood flooring, but remained mostly occupied with the goal at hand.  
After walking upstairs and down a hallway, they finally reached what was quite obviously Futaba's room.  
The door, plastered in “danger” signs, made him chuckle. 

Akira raised his hand in a “wait” motion, lightly knocking before anything else. Rustling, followed by a girls voice pressed against the door.  
FUTABA: Who is it?  
Tritely interrogative as she was, Akira responded with a cool disposition.  
AKIRA: Akira Kurusu, accompanied by a guest of honor.  
Apparently that was confirmation enough, as suddenly a lock unfastened and Futaba Sakura opened up.  
FUTABA: Hey, you sh-  
FUTABA: Oh.  
Akechi met her eyes, for the briefest of moments. Though it didn't last, the exchange made him think; was she wary? He just… didn't know. It wouldn't be unwarranted, if so, but the idea still made him shift.  
Akira smiled and waved.  
FUTABA: So it _is_ you...  
AKECHI: Yes. Would you mind if we spoke?  


Her eyes narrowed, expression betraying nothing even as she shrunk away.  
FUTABA: Hold it.  
The door slammed shut again. Akechi looked imploringly to the other boy, but was met with an equally nonplussed shrug. Well, then. Patience is key.  
After a moment, she opened her door again.  
  
FUTABA: Okay, come in now.  


They stepped forward, Akechi lingering at the center of the room as Futaba watched from her bed.  
FUTABA: What do you want, Crow?  
He chuckled in an attempt to sound casual, but his voice was unpleasantly shaken.  
AKECHI: Well.  
AKECHI: I wanted to tell you I was sorry. For what I did.  
AKECHI: That may not mean anything- hell, it probably _shouldn't_.  
AKECHI: I took away your only parent, and it nearly killed you. That isn't something easily fixed by an apology, but it's the only thing I can give.   
AKECHI: You don't have to accept, and I anticipate that you won't. This just felt necessary.  
It was tense. That was to be expected- there was no reason for Futaba to let her guard down around him, after all.  
Akiras' presence in the doorway helped somewhat with his nerves, but Akechi refused to be lax about this.  
They went on like that, two silent monoliths, until finally Futaba uncrossed her arms and stood, as if having made up her mind about something.  


FUTABA: Hm.  
FUTABA: You're being genuine about this?  
A short laugh escaped him, the distrust _warranted_ but misplaced, in his mind. What reason did he have to lie?  
AKECHI: I am.  
FUTABA: Okay.  
With a hefty sigh, she stared up at him. Akechi looked anywhere but her eyes, the uncomfortable prying feeling wedging beneath his skin. He understood her eyes, reflections of himself visible in the glass of her lenses.  
She looked at him, and he understood at once what she saw; someone angry, resentful, someone who'd allowed their inhibitions to lock them behind a thick-metal door of their own making. And Goro Akechi resented that person, resented being him, resented knowing now that none of it was his childhood or his father or anything besides the things growing crooked inside him.  
It hurt, to be looked at so plainly, all barriers stripped away. The pain lay upon him like rage, uncontrollable and violent.  


They remained silent.  
Then, she spoke:  
FUTABA: You should leave, for now.  
FUTABA: I need some time to think.  
Futaba's words were careful, practiced, the voice of someone who'd given her words a great deal of thought.  
FUTABA: No offense, but I'm not sure about you.  
The air left his lungs, but he stood up straight without argument. Alright, then. That was definitely a fair response.  
His eyes found Akira, who was busily tapping away at his phone.  
AKECHI: Will you be going with me?  
AKIRA: Huh-  
AKIRA: Oh! Yeah.  
He pocketed the device and they went on in silence, the two of them leaving the house side-by-side.  


Akechi took a breath the second fresh air hit his face. It was a reminder, the inhalation of breath, that he was alive. Factually, immutably, he was alive and breathing and for some reason Akechi still wasn't sure how that made him feel. Looking at Akira as they approached the intersection, his mind swam in uncertainty.  
Back then he'd thought it pointless to mend things, but now his mind told him that wasn't the case. It told him there was time.  
Was there? Was this all a waste?  
He was so sure doing this would make him feel better, somehow, but a familiar feeling of entrapment bubbled up inside him. 

Akechi stopped, watching the cars whizz by.  
AKECHI: So...  
AKIRA: So.  
AKIRA: Doing alright?  
AKECHI: Ha.  
He laughed curtly, knowing full well he _should be_ fine. What did he expect to happen?  
She owed him nothing.  
Still, it didn't exactly feel like closure in the way he thought it might.  
AKECHI: I don't know.  


Akira made a face, scrunched up and thoughtful.  
Akechi looked up at him, a little demurely. He'd grown taller since they met.  
That first time, at the TV station, Akira was far more gangly, with arms that didn't quite fit his torso yet. It was endearing. Was that really only a year ago?  
His phone buzzed again, and Akira went back to texting, seemingly fine with standing around in the heat.  
AKECHI: I-  
Akira smiled down at his screen, looking startled when Akechi spoke.  
AKECHI: I wanted to thank you.  
He kicked a pebble into the street, uncomfortably clearing his throat.  
AKECHI: For- accompanying me.  
AKIRA: Aw, man.  
Akira gave him a pat on the back, affectionately ruffling his hair.  
AKIRA: It's no problem. Glad to do it, really.  
AKECHI: Hm...  


It was perhaps for the best that he went home, then. He longed for a slow and quiet end to this day, the heavy ache in his limbs having all but disappeared.  
Akechi turned towards the train station, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Before he was completely out of sight, the sound of rushing footsteps reached him as Akira desperately caught up. He was looking a little winded from sprinting down the street, which Goro snorted at.  
Idiot.  
AKIRA: Why do you walk so fast?  
AKECHI: Why do _you_ walk so slow?  
AKIRA: Jeez.  
AKIRA: Y'know what, that's not fair, your legs are super long. You're mostly leg! And you walk in like, full strides.  
He laughed again, good-naturedly, his mood improved by the simple act of talking.  
AKECHI: Maybe so.  


After another moment of trekking towards the station Akira stopped in his tracks, glancing down for a moment then back up at Akechi.  
AKIRA: Hey!  
The long-legged boy paused, turning to face his bespectacled friend with a curious nod.  
AKIRA: Wanna walk to Leblanc with me?  
Akechi feigned the act of thinking about it, although great relief washed over him. His apartment became a very lonely place at times, no matter how sickly he felt.  
AKECHI: I suppose I can. Though, isn't the shop closed today?  
Akira shrugged, and Akechi couldn't fight a smile.  
AKIRA: Who cares. I live there, don't I?  
Fair enough. 

Turning this time, they made their way towards the coffee shop, light conversation filling the silence as they walked. This, he thought, was nice. His mind drifted back to that time with Ryuji, the way their evening was interrupted. Subconsciously, Akechi lowered his head.  
AKECHI: By the way,  
AKIRA: Mmh?  
AKECHI: What's the matter with you?  
AKECHI: Is there something on your mind?  
He'd noticed it before, but Akira was acting strange lately. As far back as March he'd been a bit shifty, which was to be expected considering the situation, but it hadn't entirely dissipated. If at all.  
AKIRA: Are you worried?  
He avoided the question mischievously, but Akechi huffed and shoved into his side. Akira stumbled and giggled and shoved him right back, giving a half-assed answer.  
AKIRA: Like I said, you shouldn't be alone for your birthday.  
AKIRA: And besides, I just wanted to hang out with you.  
That wasn't exactly what he meant, but Akechi didn't press it, _couldn't_ as his follow-up quip was interrupted by a sneeze. It disrupted his vision, and made his head swim.  
AKIRA: Gesundheit. Cute sneeze.  
He sniffled, the sight of a darkened Leblanc in the distance leading his thoughts elsewhere.  
AKECHI: Shut up, let's go.  


Akira jogged ahead and Akechi sped up to keep pace, the two of them reaching the entrance with it's blinds pulled down to signify it's closing.  
Popping open the door, both boys stepped inside as Akira flicked on the lights, and... 

**PHANTOM THIEVES:** SURPRISE **!!**  
Goro Akechi blinked, eyes wide. He was perfectly, light-headedly still.  
There were streamers across the booths, paper-thin table cloths over their tables, and balloons clustered on the ground; draped from wall to wall was a banner with his name and “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” in capital letters.  
Below it stood Ryuji, Makoto, Haru, Yusuke, Ann, and a girl he didn't recognize with her hair up in a ponytail.  
Morgana, from his perch, looked between Akira and Akechi, meowing.  
MORGANA: Welcome home you two!  
Akechi sniffled. The anger, whatever had been festering since that horror three-hundred-and-sixty-five days ago, came up his throat like bile.  
AKECHI: I...  


He couldn't help it. Really, he _wanted_ to, to will himself into impassive silence. But there was a burning in his eyes, and he looked away, trying to hide the thing inside him that shattered.  
This was... he'd never…  
It was just too much. He didn't _deserve this_ , hadn't earned it, wasn't sure what he wanted and if this was it. A decade ago, a smaller version of himself was spending the first birthday of many completely and utterly alone.  
Akira turned, shedding all excitement as concern overtook him. Akechi didn't desire concern; only to stop himself from being seen like this.  
AKECHI: Akira-  
He couldn't stand the frailty, didn't want to be perceived. But Akira refused to shy away, cool hands wiping the moisture from his cheeks with earnest focus. The soft, muted sound of his cries filled the store, now dead silent as people shuffled forward.  
AKIRA: Man, you're burning up...  


AKIRA: It's alright, okay?   
He _wanted_ , more than anything, to jerk away. Akechi despised his crying, like he hated his laughter, thought both of them unsightly and strange. But his legs refused to carry him, and instead of running he buried his face in Akiras' chest. He smelled like cologne and used coffee grounds.  
AKECHI: Don't look at me like this.  
AKIRA: I'm not.  


Akechi felt him toy with his hair, taking a deep breath at the familiar sensation. It was grounding. The last time he had a birthday party… it was when his mother was still alive, to say the least. Honestly, a proper celebration was so outlandish a thought that he didn't even want to entertain it. But, for some ungodly fucking reason...  
AKIRA: C'mon now, big guy.  
AKIRA: I thought we didn't do brainless sentimentality?  
Akechi righted himself just to flick Akira in the face, glaring quite seriously.  
AKIRA: Yeah, I deserved that.  


Cautiously, he peeked at everyone else, the rest of the group looking on in concern. They'd all crept closer, though some more than others, chattering amongst themselves yet falling silent when Akechi reappeared.  
YUSUKE: Are you quite alright, Goro?  
RYUJI: Yeah man, what's good?  
AKECHI: I'm fine.  
He rubbed his eyes.  
AKECHI: I don't know, it's likely a byproduct of my hang-ups concerning this day.  
AKECHI: The majority of my birthdays haven't exactly been pleasant, and, well-  
AKECHI: Fuck, I don't know.  
AKECHI: I never thought I'd be able to have...   
His voice trailed, but he was immediately accosted all the same. There was definitely something to the experience of being embraced by six people at once, like a vacuum of warmth and hands had swallowed him whole. It felt, Akechi noted, very different from being groped at by fans.  
His heart took to an unfamiliar swelling, though his first impulse was to bat them away; if he truly _was_ sick, it's best they keep their distance. 

ANN: You dummy.  
She scolded him light-heartedly,  
ANN: Really thought your pals would let you go without a birthday party, huh?  


Warm air sufficiently returned to the room, Akechi found himself guided around and fed cupcakes as everyone spoke excitedly about the troublesome party preparations.  
In particular, Makoto snatched a present off the counter (disturbing Morgana as she did) and gestured to it.  
MAKOTO: Take, for example-  
RYUJI: Eheh...  
The gift was in shambles, at least on the wrapping paper front, and Akechi observed the phallic-print wrapping paper with some amusement. Nice.  
MAKOTO: Please explain to me how someone wraps a present _this poorly_?  
RYUJI: Look, the instructions were unclear.  
MAKOTO: Instruct- Ryuji, it's paper and tape!  
HARU: Don't be so hard on him, Mako-chan! It looks more… interesting, that way.  
YUSUKE: I'm inclined to agree.  


Akechi was content listening to their banter, but Ann nudged him in time with Akira taking Ryujis' poorly-wrapped box away from Makoto before she could correct it herself.  
ANN: Why don't you go ahead and open them?   
RYUJI: Yo, do mine first!  
AKIRA: Here.  
Akechi wasn't given time to protest, the box thrown at him and his hands catching it preparedly despite his nerves.  
AKECHI: You really shouldn't have-  
Ryuji scoffed.  
AKECHI: I'm serious! Gifts aren't exactly-  
AKIRA: Oh, open it already. The suspense is killing me.  
After more back-and-forth, Akechi finally tore into the phallic gift-wrap to reveal a plain cardboard box. It wasn't taped, so he simply opened it up and...  
AKECHI: Huh?  
It was, much to his surprise, an action figure. It smelled like a department store, the black-clad hero striking a dramatic pose.  
A Gray Pigeon figurine. 

Nonplussed, he turned it over.  
AKECHI: I don't… how did you know?  
HARU: Oh, that's a cartoon character, right?  
AKIRA: A game, too.  
RYUJI: Eh, I 'unno.  
Ryuji twiddled his thumbs, clearly bashful.  
RYUJI: I was looking at your running shoes and noticed they had little graphics on 'em from that show Futaba likes.  


Akechi flinched a little, but masked it with a laugh, still examining the figurine rigorously.  
It was a common doll, certainly no collectors item, but still one he'd never been able to get himself.  
AKECHI: That's very observant of you. I've had them since middle school, but the show was a favorite of mine. Thank you.  
MAKOTO: That _is_ very observa- wait. Middle school?  
RYUJI: Dude.  
YUSUKE: What's wrong with that?  


Before more argument could occur, Haru pushed to Goros' side with something held behind her back, looking excited. Sheesh, this bunch was easily distracted. How did they find out he was the traitor again?  
Oh, yeah, _he_ fucked up. __  
HARU: I'm not sure if you'll like it, but...  
She revealed her gift with a wave. A cactus. A cactus with a blue ribbon tied around it's red-brown pot, long spines ejecting from the green stalk.

His toy set aside, he took the and examined the plant, nearly in awe.  
It was… cute, in a way.  
AKECHI: What's it called?  
HARU: Uhm… a cactus?  
AKECHI: No, I mean- what's it's _name_?  
HARU: Oh!  
She giggled.  
HARU: That's for you to decide. He yours, after all!  
He suddenly felt a little dwarfed by the responsibility. Would the thing die? Could he let that happen?  
Suddenly stressed, he decided with determination that he would research how to properly keep it- keep _him_ alive. 

ANN: What will you name him, then?  
Akechi deeply regarded the question, interrupted by more boxes being shoved in his direction. It was overwhelming, though perhaps not in a bad way.  
Being the center of attention was something he'd worked to denounce, yet this just felt _different_. Better. Like he was being looked after as well as looked at, which prodded him with guilt as much as it did joy.  
A journal, a sketchbook with acrylic paints attached, a UV nail light, a copy of Rampo Noir, and a dead rat Morgana proudly lay at his feet.  


The final gift, shoved to the back of the table, was wrapped carefully in the same paper as Rampo Noir, though he almost didn't notice it.  
The ponytail stranger, who he'd since recognized from Ann's instagram, grabbed the box and lifted it up for delivery to him.  
SHIHO: There's one more!  
SHIHO: Sorry to intrude on your big day, by the way. They needed help with lifting stuff, and-  
AKECHI: It's no problem. Shiho, right?  
She smiled lightly, handing him the box.  
SHIHO: That's right, I've heard a lot about you, from-  


The front door opened and shut as Akira re-entered, having left to dispose of Morgana's “gift” much to the cats' protest.  
AKIRA: Oh! Shit, right. I wanna watch this one.  
Akechi cracked a wry smile as he peeled the paper away, curious as to what it might be.  
It was flat-ish, and perfectly square, which made him think it might be a board game. It was heavier, though, he noted, finally tearing away enough to see that it was, in fact, a _chess set_.  
A limited edition one, too, meant to replicate the one played between Magneto and Xavier in X-Men.  
Akechi stared down at it, feeling again as though he might cry. 

ANN: You okay?  
Akechi nodded, because he wasn't _not_ okay, but he also couldn't fathomably handle how _known_ he was in that moment. He was seen, perceived, understood at least by Akira. The jealousy was replaced with solidarity, somehow. He'd been so sure it was too late for him.  
Shoulders raised tensely, head bowed, Akechi thought he must've looked like a turtle trying to retreat in its shell.  
RYUJI: Man...  
Ryuji reached out to him, but Akechi was a second quicker, resting his chess set in one of the booths and side-stepping the rest of the group.  
AKECHI: I need some air.  


It wasn't even a lie.  
He let the entrance clatter closed with a sigh of relief, stifling the urge to cough lest someone hear him. His hands burned numbly, sweating as if having pushed something heavy. They were gloved, as they always were, the compulsive want to peel them off and scrub still lingering, after everything.  
He stood for a while.  
The sun wasn't quite setting yet, but unmistakably on its way to the horizon. Going to bed tonight, in that deathly silent apartment, filled him with dread even conceptually. Being so alone with his mind. 

Even then, knowing he had somewhere to be, Akechis' thoughts drifted back to the failed apology. To the ways in which the weight of his actions could never be forgiven.  
It was entrapment, living like this. He wore the collar and held the leash and was still mortified, invariably, at the prospect of wandering off. Or finding out that he had the key, it's all in his hands, there's no more big plan or life goal-  
That now, after everything, he's supposed to accept this love and keep walking. It was dizzying, quite literally. 

Goro Akechi felt eyes on him. He glanced back at Leblanc, but the blinds were still shut- was Morgana out here?  
He grimaced.  
AKECHI: Hello?  
From the edge of the street, a small head peeked out and immediately retracted. Akechi furrowed his brows.  
AKECHI: ... Futaba?  
FUTABA: Sorry to interrupt.  
She showed herself just slightly, fiddling with her hair, and Akechi fought the urge to turn and run inside.  
AKECHI: No, no, I'm not doing anything.  
AKECHI: Want me to fetch Akira for you, o-  
FUTABA: No!  
FUTABA: No, I wanted to talk to _you_.  
He stepped towards her on impulse but stopped himself mid-way, doing his best to espouse stoicism.  
AKECHI: Okay. Talk away.  
FUTABA: I...  
FUTABA: I really hated you, y'know.  
FUTABA: Before it was you-you, just the idea of you. Whoever pulled the trigger.  
He nodded, understanding but confused.  
FUTABA: I thought, for so long, that it was _me_. That I pulled the trigger. That her “suicide” was, just, completely my fault.  
FUTABA: But...  
Futaba sighed, face twisting up in frustration.  
FUTABA: I don't know. I just don't. When we defeated Shido I thought _that_ would be closure, for me, because it was all his fault.  
FUTABA: And it sort of was. But I still think of her. You were right when you said nothing can ever really heal that, I guess.   
Though Akechi had stopped himself short, Futaba saw no problem approaching, standing arm-to-arm with Akechi in spite of how tense she looked.  


The pain he'd felt before returned and he cursed himself for it. Pity. He felt bad for this girl, wanted to protect her or make her feel better or _something_ , whatever would stop her voice from shaking with that grief.  
AKECHI: It _wasn't_ your fault, but surely you know that.  
FUTABA: Yeah.  
FUTABA: My mom… she wasn't a perfect mother, in hindsight. But that doesn't make it any easier.   
FUTABA: I don't think it was your fault, either, though.  
His breath hitched. Everything felt feverish, what was meant to be a break becoming yet more stress, but he tried not to let it show in his voice.  
AKECHI: That means what, exactly?  
FUTABA: It means… I don't know.  


FUTABA: Goro Akechi-  
Her eyes moved from the asphalt to him in an instant, stare shrewd as ever. Akechi returned it this time, trying to look defiant when in his mind he knew he must've been the picture of vulnerability.  
FUTABA: What would I have to say, anyways?  
AKECHI: What?  
FUTABA: To make you blame anyone but yourself for this, what would I have to do?  
FUTABA: It's frustrating because I keep looking at you and seeing someone just like the scared little girl I used to be, too self-loathing to even leave her room. In my mind, I'm trying to figure it out, but honestly will accepting your apology make it better?  
FUTABA: Because here: I accept.  
AKECHI: Like I said, you don't have to!  
FUTABA: Do you _want me to_? Do you think you “deserve it”? Do you think it makes you weak or something stupid like that?  
Apologizing _wasn't_ easy for him; certainly it made him feel weak but it was something he was willing to do. He felt like it was important. Was he wrong?  


He rubbed his temples, willing the pain in his head away.  
FUTABA: I just-  
She lowered her voice.  
FUTABA: I just can't _do anything_ if you aren't also willing to help yourself. And I don't know, let others help you? I love Akira but I'm so sick of hearing about how much he wishes he could get through to you properly!  
FUTABA: It's pathetic! Stop it!  
There are tears in her eyes, but she's not hysterical. She spreads her arms wide, stand sufficiently taken.  
His vision is hazy.  
The dread, the shame, it beat against him with torrential force. His knees felt weak, almost buckling, and he stumbled forward to lean against her because there was nowhere else to lean.  
FUTABA: Woah!  
AKECHI: Fuck-  


It was too much, collectively.  
Apparently alerted by the girls' shouts, Akira burst out and immediately yelped in surprise. Akechi stood up straight, waved his hands in protest,  
AKECHI: I'm- I'm fine just give me-  
He gripped Akiras' shoulders instead of Futaba's, the taller boy making it easier to keep his balance.  
AKIRA: woah, woah-  
Akechi couldn't keep his eyes open. The fatigue that had been slow-growing throughout the day collapsed upon him, and the pounding in his mind made a passionate return.  
Was this a panic attack? It'd been a while, if so.

It was worse than before, though, more intense. Why did it feel like he'd been shot? Before he knew it Akechi began to shake, eyes fluttering open and closed. Akira was talking but it was impossible to make out exactly what was being said, everything blurred and distant.  
Akechi's vision swam black. His eyes drifted shut. This time, they didn't open. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Be sure to comment!** I hope you enjoyed.


	8. The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red-haired girls, blue-stained rooms, and long white halls... It wasn't exactly how he planned to kick off the big 1-8, but in the end he wasn't quite complaining. Maybe reconnection wasn't so bad.

Goro Akechi squinted. A bright light was suspended from somewhere he couldn't see, the room otherwise dimly lit, with rows of empty benches beside his stand.  
It was a _stand_ , a pillar, hard oak wood, the room as a whole resembling something like a courthouse if not for being deep shades of cobalt and cerulean. Directly affront to him was a long desk (the judicial panel?), but the occupants- if any- were shrouded in shadow.  
Distantly, the sound of singing.  
This was- _had to be_ a dream. 

AKECHI: What's going on here?  
His voice was sharp, but had an edge of fear that he kicked himself for.  
Still, the light gradually dimmed, allowing him to see way lay beyond it.  
An old man; hunched over and balding, with impossibly round eyes. A crooked smile overtook his face, equally outrageous nose pointing down- directly at Goro Akechi.  
**???: So you've finally arrived. We've been waiting, wild card.**  
**???: Welcome to the Velvet Room, a place between dream and reality. Mind and matter.**  
The young man stood agape.  
AKECHI: The Velvet Room- “wild card?” This doesn't- the Metaverse was...  
Rubbing his temples, Goro steadied himself. It's important to keep a level head. Looking around, the only illuminated seat was the long-nosed individuals.  
AKECHI: _We_?  
Suddenly, the lights came on properly. Akechi stopped short.  
Featureless, pitch-black figures stared at him from each empty seat, still save for subtle rises-and-falls that imitate breathing. The only other creature that resembled a human was behind the clerks desk, a tall pretty-boy dressed in a blue uniform and bearing a lackadaisical expression.  
The old man chuckled.  
**???: _Yes_. It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Igor.**  
**IGOR: You're quite late, young man. I didn't think you would show at all. Our previous guest has already completed his “rehabilitation”… to think another would arrive so soon.**  


“ _Rehabilitation_ ”...? Akira? Staring down at his hands, still gloved, Akechi felt at a loss.  
**IGOR: This room is intended for the worthy, for those who hold a special potential in their hearts. This potential tends to arise as a Persona, but you… your journey is going quite differently.**  
**IGOR: Tell me, why now have you accepted my masters invitation?**  
This seemed too vivid, too bizarre to just be a dream. Even a lucid one. If this place was real, and he was to trust the circumstances of his arrival… surely it must have to do with Akiras' plan? No matter how off track it'd gotten?  
AKECHI: I've been, supposedly, undergoing a rehabilitation by mending things with the Thieves…   
AKECHI: But then, why would that land me here? In a _velvet courtroom_ of all places, supposedly built for Personas?  


Igor shook his head, smile widening.  
**IGOR: Quite perceptive… indeed, it seems now your heart has truly started on a path of self-improvement, thanks to the bonds you've now chosen to mend.**  
**IGOR: As for the courtroom, it's simply a manifestation of your own mental state. The meaning of this judgement hall is yours to decipher.**  
With all the calm he could muster, Akechi spoke up.  
AKECHI: But what could that possibly say about- well, about _me_?  
He was sure what he was looking for, didn't want to ask if outright. Didn't want to make it clear that the only thing on his mind was whether or not this meant there was, invariably, hope for him. 

Igor drummed his fingers.  
**IGOR: Oh, child...**  
**IGOR: Is it not already clear?**  
Slowly, he shook his head, uncertain the correct answer.  
**IGOR: Hm.**  
**IGOR: Then let's say we strike a deal. An alliance.**  
AKECHI: An alliance?  
**IGOR: Yes… though a formal contract would require your a persona, because you're here we can still be of use to one another.**  
**IGOR: When a guest strengthens his bonds, the power gained helps us inhabitants, too. It is what gives us the will to exist; the strength to survive.**  
**IGOR: As such, if you continue to build these ties with others, we can provide you assistance in navigating your life and relationships. An insight on what to do, if you will. After all, I happen to possess a great deal of information on human nature.**  
Guidance… from a dream-figure? This _was_ his first dream in a while that hadn't been terror-inducing. Maybe that alone was enough motivation. Not that he wouldn't survive without help.  
Akechi grumbled. No one would know, right? Then…  
AKECHI: I. I accept this deal of yours,  
**IGOR: Most excellent.**  
A faint, untraceable noise seemed to catch his attention.  
**IGOR: Ah, it seems our time here is up.**  
**IGOR: Until next time, detective.**  
Before Akechi could resist, everything began to fade, the room falling away as he stood helpless, and slowly... 

* * *

Slowly, Goro Akechis' eyes drifted open, a metronomic beep registering in tandem with bright fluorescent lights that immediately compelled him to shield his eyes. A sensation of pins-and-needles ran up his fingertips, catapulting him back into the present. His hand was _bare_ , and- worse yet- being _held_. The culprit gave a small start upon looking up, immediately jerking away and letting Akechi's arm drop to the sheets.  
AKIRA: Goro!  
AKECHI: Wh-  
A distant pounding sensation immediately robbed his attention, Akira crossing the room and fiddling with something before doubling back.  
A hospital room. How fitting. He remembered a blue area of some kind, but that couldn't have been real... Before that, the dizzy memories of his birthday bash came to mind, but judging by the window it appeared to be night… had it been so long? 

AKIRA: How're you feeling?  
There was a nigh uncharacteristic delicacy to his voice, which was itself sort of raw-sounding. Goro bristled.  
AKECHI: Like shit… What'd I _do_?  
AKIRA: Uh. Your head got all messed up.   
He furrowed his brow in impassive acknowledgement, too foggy to question any further.  
AKECHI: Oh.  
AKECHI: And why are you here?  


Akira took a bashful stance, as if moments ago he hadn't been cradling Akechis' hand like a grieving widow.  
Remembering his hands, he maneuvered them underneath the thin blanket he was covered up with, careful of the IV (and too groggy to lose his shit at the present moment, even though their bareness was discomforting).  
AKIRA: _Well_ , there wasn't really anyone who could come? From your family. And, well _normally_ I wouldn't be able to see you anyways but Haru paid off the staff.  


Something about the statement was so unbearably funny that Akechi choked with laughter, throat too dry to handle the assault. Noticing his plight, Akira perked up,  
AKIRA: Oh right! I'll text Sumi and tell her you're awake.  
AKECHI: Sumi...  
His nose wrinkled.  
AKECHI: The Yoshizawa girl?  
Akira made an elusory noise, waving his hand a little.  
AKIRA: Well... News kinda sort of got out about. You.  
AKIRA: I mean, there was a “where are they now” article put out on you, and just _hours_ later you were hospitalized.  
AKIRA: She heard about it, and wanted to stop by. Apparently with a pick-me-up.  


Akechi blinked dumbly.  
That was… nice of her, in any case, but he couldn't recall being anything but unpleasant towards her for the majority of their relationship. His focus was, throughout the ordeal with Maruki, exclusively on Akira- she was a friendly thing, he guessed.  
His impending death just soured any camaraderie he could've even conceived of developing, not to mention that anyone besides Akira didn't seem worth the effort. But then, if she was bringing gifts... 

That reminded him- now that his vision was steady and he'd re-entered proper consciousness, he pointed out the end table next to his bed that housed a few things out of place.  
AKIRA: Right! Here-  
Akira retrieved them, handing him one-by-one: a teddy bear, a card, a silver balloon, and a pair of black gloves that made him perk up with interest.  
He slipped them on, relief wracking his body. For a moment, he lay there, feeling strangely at peace; he rectified this relaxed demeanor upon noticing Akiras grin. He looked away quickly. Akechi felt obligated to speak.  
AKECHI: I- erhm. Thank you.  
It felt uncomfortable to say, rolled off his tongue thickly, but if Akira noticed it wasn't visible on his face.  
AKIRA: Oh! It's from everyone, don't worry.  
AKECHI: I meant- _the gloves_ , Joker.  
AKIRA: Oh.  
His companion chuckled, looking shy again _for some reason_.  
AKECHI: Not that I needed them! It wasn't a necessary gesture. I would've been fine without.  
The quick afterthought clearly took him by surprise, the boys face transforming with laughter.  


Akechi huffed.  
AKECHI: _What_?  
AKIRA: Oh, nothing. Besides, it's not a big deal.  
AKIRA: You're not so tough to handle, y'know?  
Indignance, in tandem with slight embarrassment, blossomed at his salacious tone.  
AKECHI: I-  


The conversation was quickly brought to a close by the sound of a door opening, both snapping to look at the perceived intruder. A man in scrubs appeared, bearing a serious expression.

Akechi took a breath. 

* * *

A torrent of information was delivered to Goro, chief among them being the fact that a _blood vessel_ in his brain had ballooned into an aneurysm and ruptured. There was an utterly savage urgency, however, with which he was delivered to the clinic, that supposedly saved his life. Or at least saved him a considerable amount of brain damage.  


Though his only beneficiary (much to his abhorrence) was the now-imprisoned former politician, Shido, what money for the operation to repair his bleeding that wasn't covered by the government was instead paid out-of-pocket by one of his “saviors-” the same that insisted nearly at gunpoint that Akira be allowed to stay.  
Akechi felt physically ill when thinking about Haru shelling out cash on his behalf, but he held his tongue.  
He'd pay her back eventually. Somehow.  


Still, the doctor clarified that even though his brain shouldn't sustain any permanent damage, he'd need to undergo some physical therapy before he could be back to his “healthy and young self.” How deplorable.  


After shakily signing some paperwork, Akechi was yet again left alone as Akira left to get food from the cafeteria. Hospital food. His throat was still miserably dry.  
Sitting in that quiet, sterile room, he used his cellphone (which was returned to him with a few other possessions that were on his person when he passed out) to check the time. 11:38 PM. He groaned, leaning back against the pillow and staring up at the ceiling.  


A tentative knock made him sit at-attention.  
AKECHI: Erm. Come in!  
Gently, his door stuttered open, the leaning gait of one Sumire Yoshizawa appearing. She smiled, examining the room and looking disappointed to find the guests chair empty.  
SUMIRE: Oh- Akira?  
AKECHI: Fetching food. I assume it's him you wish to speak to?  
Without thinking, hostility crept into his voice. She cringed.  
SUMIRE: Oh, no! Sorry, I- well, I was just hoping he'd be here too. I'm here for you, though, Akechi-kun.  
AKECHI: Sorry to disappoint, then. But do come in.  


Her face went red, but she nodded and crept forward, leading Akechi to notice a tray in her hands. The tray housed an ornate looking pitcher, as well as a few tea-cups.  
SUMIRE: They let me heat it downstairs- oh, uhm, it's fine if you aren't a fan of tea, though!  
SUMIRE: My sister always made it for me when I was sick, and I thought it might make you feel better.  
He turned up his nose, though out of uncertainty as opposed to disgust.  
AKECHI: I- well, thank you, Yoshizawa...  
Immediately, the redhead significantly brightened, resting the platter on his stand.  
SUMIRE: Do you want a cup, then?  
He fought a sigh.  
AKECHI: Sure, yes.  
Though his tone was grating, Sumire looked nothing short of delighted. 

She poured it for him, shyly transferring the cup to his hands. They shook slightly, but he still drank, chuckling at the sweet yet somehow bitter-tasting tea. It was a contradictory drink, sugary but with a sharp aftertaste. He enjoyed it, admittedly.  
SUMIRE: So…?  
AKECHI: It's good. I quite like it, actually. I was always partial to tea.  
A giggle bubbled up from the girls anxious form, which straightened slightly.  
SUMIRE: But you still frequent Leblanc?  
His face flushed, the line of questioning most unexpected. Sheesh, was that not what she wanted to hear?  
SUMIRE: Don't worry, I like tea better too. It's just a good excuse to talk to him.  
Ah. He snorted.  
AKECHI: Yes. You're right.  


That blue room… the man called Igor. He wondered.  
AKECHI: Yoshizawa-san-  
She perked up, attentive.  
AKECHI: Would you- do you-  
He groaned.  
AKECHI: We should make a deal.  
AKECHI: I've been. Looking to broaden my social horizons. So, we should be friends. If you'll lend me your company, then I'll try to make it up to you somehow.  
The girl was immediately flabbergasted, face physically cringing in surprise.  
SUMIRE: Be _friends_?  
AKECHI: That's what I said.  
AKECHI: If you can tolerate the presence of such a ruthless sort of person, that is.  
Immediately, she straightened out, nodding vicariously.  
SUMIRE: No, yeah! Of course I can! I'd be glad to be your friend, Goro.  
He smiled, self-satisfied. That was strangely simple. Easy. She appeared to be a bit of a pushover, but still. Maybe things will get progressively harder.  
AKECHI: Alright, then.  
AKECHI: Pleasure doing business with you, Sumire.  
SUMIRE: Hah!  
There was a grin in her voice.  
SUMIRE: The pleasure is all mine!  


AKIRA: I COME BEARING GIFTS!  
The two of them snapped to look his way, and Akira nearly dropped his bag of what seemed to be fried chicken.  
AKIRA: The fuck?  
They burst into fits of amusement, and the three of them sat around until Goros' guests were forcibly ejected. All in all, it was a pretty good way to wake up after a stress-induced aneurysm, and _definitely_ didn't help with ricidual head pain, but whatever. He was no stranger to ignoring physical ailments. 

The doctors, on the other hand, sang a much different tune, insisting for the good of his health that he not do too much for the next few days. Annoying, but… well, fair.  
Though younger than most people who have a blood vessel burst, it still messed with Akechis' orientation and stability. That meant at least a few days of being hospitalized, during which time most of his friends were deterred from visiting and Goro was left dreadfully bored. 

It did give him some time alone with his thoughts, though.  
The end of the school year was fast-approaching. Akira would go home, and Akechi would graduate into the world… alone? With Shidos money, something he wants more than ever recently to abandon the help of. And then there's higher education. Ugh.  
Surely he couldn't just become a neet?  
There's always detective prince work, which is sure to give a fair amount of cash, and now his TV show appearances _would_ count towards a personal salary. But is that what he wanted?  
When Akira left, would the thieves leave, too? Sumire?  
Either way, there's no doubt now that he could have any future he wanted, in terms of career. It, perhaps, was not as thrilling as it should've been. 

When not left to introspection, Akechi was subjected to physical, occupational, and speech therapy, which endlessly frustrated him whenever he fell short.  
Speech therapy was the easiest; he'd been trained in articulating properly to prepare for television appearances, and pretty quickly figured out any communication-based activities he was given.  
Physical rehab was a little harder, but not very. He wasn't completely dependent on others to get around in the first place. When he attempted to walk for the first time a nurse had to catch him, but besides that there wasn't much he had extreme trouble with.  
Occupational rehabilitation was where he had the most trouble. It was, essentially, focused on fine motor skills, and making sure he could still do things like cook and clean for himself. Of course, his hands shaking constantly combined with not knowing how to use a stove in the first place made it frustratingly difficult. 

But, in the end, despite his embarrassment and propensity for doing too much too quickly, the patient hospital staff decided he was free to go. The relief washed over him in extreme waves of nausea. 

At least, he thought it was relief.  
In reality, Goro had completely neglected eating in his haste to quickly pack things together and call a car.  
The long, sterile white halls had never seemed quite so long, waving goodbye to the other patients he'd encountered and giving a final nod to the receptionist, who was a great ally when it came to fighting boredom. 

Finally, the electric doors slid open, wind hitting his face. He took a deep, lung-filling breath, and smiled slightly. The fresh air was, well, refreshing. His apartment would probably feel all empty again, after this, but he didn't even dread it like usual. His own bed was much preferable to the public, germ-infested hospital. Plus, they'd tried making him remove his gloves, which was beyond annoying.  


Within minutes, his driver arrived. Opening the black car door, Goro immediately began fiddling with his phone, absently buckling his seatbelt and murmuring his address.  
???: Oh!  
He looked up from texting with a jolt.  
AKECHI: You-  
MARUKI: Goro! You were in the hospital? Are you alright?  
Akechi grit his teeth, intense annoyance being dredged up anew. Takuto Maruki. _Definitely_ not a man he wanted to see again. Really, his feelings were conflicted-  
Maruki was the reason he was alive. But then, what did it mean that… ugh. His head hurt. In any case, he certainly hadn't wanted to confront the man anytime soon.  
AKECHI: I'm _fine_. Surely you heard.  
AKECHI: And why, exactly, are _you_ here?  
Starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot, Maruki's casual demeanor changed to an apologetic one.  
MARUKI: Right!  
MARUKI: Sorry, you wouldn't know, huh? This is what I'm doing for work now!  
A mean-spirited snort managed to escape the veneer of stoicism Akechi so wanted to affect.  
AKECHI: I hope you're better at this job than your previous one.  
The man cringed, but quickly recovered.  
MARUKI: Well, I'd like to think so.  


Silently, Goro prayed that he'd be allowed to spend the remaining trip in silence. Eugh.  


joker

Holy fuck.

:? 

Guess who's driving my taxi right now. 

ohhh shit 

maruki??

Bingo!

So you knew?

yes lel 

we kept in touch kinda

And you didn't _tell me_??

honestly did NOT think it would come up

MARUKI: Sooo,  
Oh for fucks sake.  
MARUKI: I get you probably don't want anything to do with me. I completely understand why. Honestly, I can't expect for you to ever forgive me for what I put you through.  
Akechis' absent glare faltered in surprise. That wasn't what he expected.  
MARUKI: Still, I do want to apologise. I hope you've been well, Akechi.  
MARUKI: Akira really seems to care for you.  
AKECHI: So I've been told.  
Maruki let out a short chuckle at that, drumming his hand on the steering wheel. Akechis' building finally entered view of the window, feeling yet more relief. 

As they pulled up to the entrance, he hesitated.  
AKECHI: Maruki...  
He sighed.  
AKECHI: Good luck, then.  
Infuriatingly, the man broke out into a huge smile, looking back at Akechi as he grabbed his bag.  
MARUKI: Same to you, kid!  
Then, he winked:  
MARUKI: Don't worry about a tip.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the pacing for this one could've been better but. Fuck it. Anyways, the next (and final) chapter might be a little late, but I promise to get it to you. **Don't forget to comment your thoughts, criticism, and feedback!**


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